Chapter Text
'It’s better this way’ is something you’d constantly tell yourself. A little lonelier but better. It wasn't ideal, but it was safer for your heart this way.
Just like it wasn't ideal that you were sitting at your little sister’s bachelorette party with a mocktail in your hand, sober.
You sat there while everyone else in the bridal party was on the dance floor, with some random man that wasn’t their boyfriend or husband grinding up on them.
You didn't mind sitting back and watching other people have fun, perhaps make stupid decisions. But doing it sober?
However, you had one job tonight as the maid of honor: get her to the wedding tomorrow morning and get her down the aisle without stupid, drunken decisions being made.
This meant attending this party and sticking it out in this god awful strip club.
So you watched your sister like a hawk. You sat there sipping on your drink, keeping your head clear and your eyes open. Watching her dance with some fuck boy from out of town grab her ass and grind up against her.
You watched them dance together for a few songs, letting her enjoy her drunken bad decision at the rate it was going.
You heard her hiccup and then saw her shake her head as a ‘No thank you’ slurred out of her mouth. You also watched him persist on taking her back to his place, his hand on her hip, smirking at her as he tried pulling her off the dance floor.
You stepped down from your barstool and came over, putting yourself between the two of them. “Alright, I think it’s time to move on to greener, more available pastures, buddy… the one isn't available... and has said 'no'..." You gently pushed him away from her, your lips in a tight smile.
He chuckled, his eyes clocking your body up and down, checking you out, biting his bottom lip, “Well well, I think I see a greener ass… I mean greener grass right in front of me!” he smirked, “Name’s Spencer, what’s yours?” he crowded your space, taking your hand in his.
You grinned and chuckled, taking your hand back quickly, then tsked. “You are so barking up the wrong tree, Spencer…” You chuckled and shook your head in disbelief- the audacity of men never ceased to amaze you. “Keep it movin’, bud!"
You turned towards your sister, effectively cutting off engaging further with him.
He sighed and turned around as well, walking away to another bridesmaid who was dancing across the dance floor.
She had a face of utter fear as reality set in. “Oh god, I think I’m gonna be sick…” she said before putting her hand over her mouth and gagging.
You shook your head again at her reaction and chuckled, “Alright, I think that’s our cue to wrap this party up for you, little miss thing…” You wrapped her arm around yours and walked with her to the bathroom.
She did her best in the incredibly ridiculous high heels to walk with you, but most of the travel was you dragging her along.
Once in the bathroom, she ran into the stall before collapsing to her knees and coughing as she vomited into the toilet.
You weren’t too far behind her, quickly gathering her hair up and holding it up behind her. You took a deep breath and sighed deeply. “There ya go… let it out,” you encouraged, leaning down to rub her back.
She coughed and took a few deep breaths before she vomited again, groaning.
After a few moments, you leaned over and grabbed her some toilet paper. “Here, wipe your mouth hun…” you said softly.
She looked up and smiled lazily, “You’re such a good sister…” she hiccupped, taking the bunch of toilet paper from you and wiping her mouth. “You’re going to make such a good wife one day too…” she giggled, her eyes fluttering closed.
You chuckled, “You’re so drunk and delusional…” you tsked.
“How so?” she asked, then almost immediately bent over as she coughed again, vomiting more into the toilet.
“You’re good… keep it comin’... get it all out.” you encouraged gently, ignoring her question.
After getting it all out, she leaned back and laid her head against the stall wall, closing her eyes. “Just because Robbie and Damon didn’t work out doesn’t mean there isn’t someone out there for you…” she said before opening her eyes and looking up at you.
Ever since she got engaged, she had been determined to find you someone as well. She wanted you just as happy as she was with her fiance, Ben.
The number of blind dates or double dates you had been on in the last six months just to keep her happy was astounding.
However, none of them wanted to settle down, be in a committed relationship. All they wanted was a ‘casual’ relationship. To them you weren’t good enough for commitment as you knew most of them were now exclusively dating someone else.
You didn’t fit their boxes, weren't good enough to be the ‘forever’ in their life. Hell, 13 dates later, you began to think, it must be you.
Something must be wrong with you.
You must have some immediate invisible sign on your head that says something like ‘Step on up and break my heart’ or ‘Fuck me over’.
The last date you went on a few weeks ago was the straw that broke your camel's back.
Lila set you up with one of Ben’s coworkers. Some narcissist who thought just because he had a yearly salary of over $2 million that money would earn his way into your pants.
When you thanked him for a good night but didn't invite him in, the things he said to you in anger and obvious sexual frustration– created the first brick of your now indestructible wall.
So that was it.
You swore it all off. It wasn’t going to happen again if you could help it.
‘You can’t get hurt if you don’t open your heart.’
You leaned against the wall and folded your arms. “Lila, it's so much more than that, and you know it…” You bit the inner part of your cheek, “Just… you tried, and I appreciate that…” you said softly before your voice changed, sounding a bit firmer, “...but let what’s dead, fuckin’ rest in peace.” you shook your head looking down at your shoes, letting out a breath of something. Anger? Sadness? Frustration? Maybe all of the above.
She sighed softly, defeated. “Fine… I’ll leave it.”
After a few moments of silence, she cleared her throat. “What time is it?”
You pulled your phone out of your purse. “It’s just past 2 am…" you tsked "We should get you home. We’ve got an early morning…” You put your phone away and held out your hand. “We need to be at the venue by 9 am…”
She smiled and reached up for your hand. “What would I do without you?”
You pulled her up to her feet and chuckled, the tension breaking between the two of you. “I don’t want to know the answer to that question…” You teased.
She chuckled and held onto your arm as the two of you headed back to her place to spend the night.
You had her up and at the venue just before 9 am, sitting in the glam chair with a glass of ginger ale and another with an Alka-seltzer on standby as she was feeling slightly hungover.
After glam, hair, and getting into your dress, you came over to her.
She was still getting her hair done. “Is there anything last minute I need to get you?” you asked, putting a bracelet on your wrist, smiling at how beautiful she looked.
She smiled and looked around, making mental notes of what she needed. “Oh! I need my bouquet and grandma’s bracelet! Dad said he had it with him…” She looked back at you.
You nodded. “I’ll go find the florist and Dad…” You smiled. “Hang tight…” You maneuvered your way through the room and made your way downstairs to the ceremony room to where you’d first look for the florist.
You looked around for anyone with flowers and saw all of the groomsmen. They were all in a small circle, putting their boutonnieres on each other's lapels.
You snapped and then clapped excitedly, “Bingo!”
You put on a smile and walked over, “Hey guys, sorry but, quick question… where did you all get those?” you pointed to one of their chests, eyes bright with hope.
Austin, Ben’s old college roommate, turned and smiled at you. “Uh, I’m not sure. Harry brought them over. You could ask him…” he said daftly.
You bit your tongue, holding in what you wanted to say, so you held your hands out in front of you to accentuate the sarcasm about to come out of your mouth, “Great, great… now who’s Harry?” you tilted your head, chuckling lightly, mildly frustrated as time was ticking.
“I’m Harry. Who’s askin’?” you heard a voice behind you, one with a soft timber but a strong and commanding tone.
You turned around, and the most beautiful man stood in front of you. He was broad, yet appeared welcoming and soft. His hair was tidy yet somewhat rugged as he was pushed back fashionably. He looked expensive but not too snobby in his black and white suit.
He was smiling at you with the biggest brown eyes you’d ever seen.
You nodded slowly, whispering back, “Harry…” then smiled and lightly chuckled as you snapped out of your daze, “Um… flowers! Where did you get those boutonnieres?” You gestured to the one on his lapel.
He looked to where you were gesturing then looked back up at you as he used his thumb to rub his bottom lip, his eyes drinking you in for a moment subtly, “The florist, she came to us…” he held out his hand to you, offering to shake yours, “Sorry, I don’t think we’ve met, you are?” he smiled warmly.
You saw someone with a bunch of flowers walk behind him and gasped, “You!” You shouted, waving your finger at them.
“Mrs. Flower… person!” you went to walk away but turned to Harry and smiled gesturing to yourself, “Sorry, um I'm... uhm the maid of honor, and one on a time crunch… nice to meet you Harry.” you did a small wave then picked up the front of your dress and turned towards the person carrying flowers, “Excuse me, florist person!” you chased after them.
Harry chuckled as he watched you chase after that person, turning back around to talk with the group of men.
You finally caught up with the person carrying the flowers, who connected you with the main florist– who, ironically, was already heading up to give the bridal group their flowers.
You took yours and made sure your sister was good before heading back down to then find your dad and get your grandma’s bracelet before rushing back upstairs and putting it on your sister’s wrist as the ceremony was moments away from starting.
“You look beautiful Lila…” you said touching her cheek, “I’m so happy for you and Ben…” you teared up and looked over her features, “Ah, you two are going to be so happy…” you let out a chuckle which made a tear fall down your cheek.
She put her hand on your cheek as well and smiled, “I know one day, whether you want to believe it or not, you’ll have this too.”
She teared up when you shook your head, smiling sadly before she whispered, “Everyone deserves a ‘Ben’...” She softly chuckled, a few tears falling down her cheeks.
You quickly took a tissue and dabbed the tears up. “Hey, no tears, you’ll ruin your makeup…” you softly laughed. “You can’t cry until the altar when you do your vows!” you teased.
She softly laughed and nodded, letting you fix her makeup. “I love you, sis… thank you for always being here for me.”
You nodded and smiled, “Always.” You held her hands and took a step back, looking over her, “Now, let’s go make you a Mrs. Reynolds!” you grinned.
Just as you said that, the wedding planner came in, headset and clipboard in hand, eyes filled with purpose.
“Ok! It’s time, everyone… places!” She smiled and clapped excitedly, “Bridesmaids and maid of honor, you’ll follow me down to line up. Lila, your dad is waiting out here for you…” She smiled and then walked out.
You looked at her, and she took a deep breath, her hands becoming clammy all of a sudden.
“Hey, I’ll see you when you get to the end of the aisle, yeah?” You smiled softly, attempting to snap her out of her thoughts.
She nodded and then smiled, “Yeah, I’m good. Go!” she giggled.
You grabbed your small bouquet and then quickly walked out of the room to catch up with the group.
You all got downstairs to gather behind the big doors that would open when the music started.
All 10 of you were being shoved together by the wedding coordinator and her assistant in a double file line. Men on the right, women on the left.
The group dwindled down, and then you were taken by the arm by the assistant, murmuring to herself, “Lastly, the maid of honor with the best man… perfect!” she said out loud as she stood you next to a familiar face.
Harry offered his arm and smiled down at you. “I’m sorry, your name is 'maid of honor', isn't it?” he teased.
You chuckled and slid your hand under his arm, holding onto his bicep and placing the flowers where they were supposed to be held, “Yes, but that's my alter ego - my real name is Y/N… you know, kinda like Batman…” You joked.
He chuckled, “If I get to walk down the aisle with Batman– that’s the ultimate win in my book.” he wiggled his arm that you were holding onto softly.
You smiled and looked down, making sure you looked good before you looked up at him, and bounced back, “Well, glad I can provide you with the experience of being with Gotham’s mightiest hero…” you looked toward the doors opening and the music starting to play.
He liked how witty you were, how you genuinely made him laugh and smile.
You whispered, leaning in slightly, “Although, I am sorry to disappoint… not to give you the full experience. The suit is in dry cleaning…” you joked.
Harry snorted out another chuckle. The wedding planner’s eyes darted towards the two of you as she stood beside the door's entrance, counting when to send the next pair down the aisle.
Both of you saw her gaze, but instead of it making you quiet, it made you giggle, which only made him chuckle a little louder.
She put a finger to her lips to signal for you to be quiet. Her eyes filled with frustration- the two of you being childish in her book.
You softly cleared your throat and stopped, nodding at her apologetically. Harry smiled at her and gave her the zipping his lips motion and then motioned throwing away the key behind his back, making her only narrow her eyes more at him.
He softly chuckled and nodded at her, mouthing ‘Sorry…’.
The group moved up a pace as one of the couples started walking down the aisle. After another couple of counts, another group went, which triggered everyone to move up.
Harry leaned in, keeping his eyes forward, and whispered, “For the record, I like this ‘suit’ a lot better… this color brings out your eyes.” he put his hand over yours on his bicep for a moment before taking it away and keeping it at his side as you both stepped forward again.
You couldn’t help but blush at his touch. Something so small, a simple touch, was making your heart smack against your chest and a flutter of butterflies in your stomach.
You kept your eyes forward, leaning into him, challenging, “You can’t say that; you haven’t seen me in the actual suit yet…” you whispered back, taking another step forward.
He bit the inside of his cheek and smirked, then went to say something back when the wedding planner cleared her throat and whispered to you both, “Big smiles and walk in 5…4…3…2… go…” She gently nudged Harry forward by pushing the back of his shoulder.
You both took a step forward and began walking down the aisle at a steady pace, smiling toward the crowd as they were all watching you.
Halfway down the aisle, he leaned over and whispered, looking down at you, “Tell me then, how does the bride know Batman?” he turned his head back to smile at the crowd, the same as you were doing.
You smiled as you walked, whispering back, “Well… in this multiverse, Batman’s parents didn’t get brutally murdered– she also has a little sister.” You nodded over to your mom and grandparents sitting in the front row. He looked over and nodded at them, then connecting the dots- he knew exactly who you were now.
He looked down at you and smiled warmly. “Ah, I knew I recognized you…”
You looked up at him. “Sorry?” you raised your eyebrow, confused.
The end of the aisle came, and he smirked a little, leaving you both on the perfect cliffhanger, “I guess this is the end of the line for us… guess we’ll have to catch up later then?” he winked before the two of you split, going your separate ways.
He stood next to Ben, putting his hands in front of himself, and smiled out towards the crowd.
You walked to where you needed to be and peeked over at him, wondering how the hell he knew who you were.
Your thoughts were paused when you looked down the aisle as the music switched to signal your sister’s arrival, your focus automatically on her.
What you didn’t see was that Harry’s eyes weren’t watching down the aisle for Lila– they were on you.
The ceremony was beautiful. Your sister looked breathtaking– it was everything she wanted.
Ben’s vows to her were heartfelt and made almost everyone tear up or cry, including yourself.
At one point, you caught Harry looking over at you, his eyes warm, full of adoration and sincerity. You suddenly became shy and quickly looked down at the bouquet you were holding, noticing your cheeks feeling warm, your heart pounding quickly again.
Fuck. How the hell was he getting under your skin like this? You were so against getting involved with anyone.
However, the way he would look at you, how he was so easily making you feel this bashful and shy- it was just frustrating.
'It's those damn brown eyes' you thought to yourself. You were a sucker for men with big puppy dog eyes- which he had and you knew was an expert in using.
You would avoid him the rest of the evening. Nothing can happen if you just avoid him, right?
However, after the happy couple were pronounced husband and wife and started to walk down the aisle, you realized that the instructions were to regroup with your aisle partner and walk back down, following behind the happy couple.
Well shit. So much for avoiding him.
'Ok one more walk down then we will stay away from Mr. Brown Eyes' you told yourself as you saw Harry look over at you.
Once your sister and Ben started to walk down, he walked to the middle of the altar and held out his arm to you, softly smiling, “Shall we?”
You gave him a small polite smile and nodded, you gently held onto his arm and walked with him down the aisle.
You both started cheering with the rest of the crowd when Ben stopped at the end of the aisle, dipping your sister down and giving her a deep and slow kiss.
You chuckled when your sister looked back at you, giggling, looking happier than ever.
You blew her a kiss and gave her a thumbs up. She returned it and then nodded at Harry and winked at you.
You're kidding me.
'You cheeky little fucker' You immediately knew what she had done. She set this up. You should’ve known better. Your sister had literally been trying to be a matchmaker. This was a new level, though, but you should've known nonetheless.
The only problem was one thing.
This was none of this was her doing. You just so happened to hit it off with Ben's best man.
When she had set you up with other guys, she never considered Harry. Lila never thought you two would hit it off, frankly. You were from two different worlds. He was from one end and you from the other. He was also just as hard-headed in some ways as you were.
She and Ben never thought to give either of you the chance together; however, there it was– an obvious spark.
And it’s not that you didn’t like Harry or find him attractive. He seemed sweet, and from the way you two were bouncing back and forth, you got along. He was also incredibly handsome. He was your type, ticked all of your boxes from an outside perspective. All of that was great– and if you were in a different place, you’d dive in.
But you weren’t. You still felt broken.
The last 2 years of relationships and failed dates just ruined your self esteem. You just were not ready to open up your heart or even try to give a guy a chance– even if it was someone like Harry. You were too afraid of getting hurt once again.
You continued to walk to the reception hall, splitting away from your sister and Ben as they went to take photos outside the venue.
You let go of Harry’s arm and saw your mom motioning for you to come over to her.
You nodded at her. “I uh, I’ve been summoned…” you chuckled softly and turned to him. “It was lovely to meet you, Harry…” You held out your hand for him to shake.
He tilted his head a fraction and looked down at you, smiling warmly, “It was lovely to meet you as well…” he took your hand, and instead of shaking it, he leaned down and kissed it gently, keeping eye contact with you.
For once you were speechless. And before you had time to react, one of the groomsmen grabbed his shoulder, pulling him away, “Open bar, man! Come on!” they said excitedly.
Harry looked back at you and smiled, “I’ll find you later?” he shouted as he was being dragged by the arm.
You nodded and smiled politely. “Sure…” You chuckled and then walked towards your mom, putting on a fake smile.
During the reception, you did what you could to avoid him. You put yourself in every other social situation or task to act busy, rarely sitting down or remaining alone.
Mainly not allowing yourself to slip into his ‘brown-eyed spell’ as you dubbed it.
You could feel his gaze on you from time to time, and once when you were waiting for your drink at the bar you clocked him coming your way. You acted like someone call you and rushed off.
He brushed it off, knowing not only were you the maid of honor but the brides sister which he assumed came with more than normal responsibilities during a wedding.
He was confident that one way or another, he'd reconnect with you.
He was sure of it.
Halfway through, it was time for toasts.
Your sister looked at you and nodded after the DJ announced it, signaling she wanted you to go first.
You took a deep breath and stood from your seat, taking your glass of champagne in your hand and then gently tapping the knife on it. Everyone started to calm down and look at you.
You went to start when someone ran over and handed you a microphone, “Oh.. god, ok…” you suddenly got nervous so you chuckled shyly, “Uhm… good evening everyone. For those that don’t know me, I am Lila’s big sister and the maid of honor.” you smiled softly and then pulled out your phone, “I just wanted to say a few words and wishes to the happy couple tonight.”
You looked up to where your sister and Ben were sitting and let out a breath. “I uhm… I first met Ben when he was standing on my parent's front porch with a bouquet of lilies 3 years ago— pacing back and forth, practicing how he was going to tell Lila how pretty as he rehearsed it to the wall.” You smiled at Ben, and he chuckled and nodded, remembering.
You continued, “We said hello, I gave the usual ‘You hurt her, I’ll kill you and make it look like an accident’ talk…” You joked and shrugged nonchalantly, and the crowd chuckled.
“He took her to see a play. I believe they went to see Phantom of the Opera, right?” You looked at them, and they nodded.
“Anyway– the importance of this was she had gone out with 3 other guys before Ben that month. She’s also not a big theatre person…” You looked at her, “Which, who doesn’t like the theatre?” you teased.
The crowd chuckled and you smiled and looked back at your phone and set it down on the table, “But after all three of those dates– she didn’t come home and have the stupid idiot, ‘I’m in love’ smile plastered on her face, the one that has been stuck on her face ever since she went out with Ben.” you smiled at your sister and she teared up, nodding at you.
“You’ve made each other smile brightly… warmly… and with every ounce of love and adoration since that night. I hope that everyone can find that type of love in their lifetime; that they find their Ben, their Lila.” You nodded at them.
You cleared your throat and took a breath, feeling yourself tear up, “There's, uh, there's a poem that I found by Kiersten White that says,
‘And I'd choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I'd find you, and I'd choose you’...”
You took a moment and looked around the room, and saw Harry, he was looking at you the way Ben looked at Lila when they first met– like he was content. He was looking at you like you hung the moon and stars.
Your heart skipped a beat, more butterflies erupted in your stomach, and the devil betrayed you because a blush bloomed across your cheeks as well as a small smile.
You quickly looked away and found your sister and Ben, swallowing down the jackhammer that was currently trying to break down your walls.
“I, uhm...” you let out a shaky breath, trying to refocus.
You flexed your hand at your side anxiously and then took a deep breath, “I can trust that in any lifetime, in any world, you two would find each other."
You sighed and teared up seeing your sister wiping her eyes, "I can’t ask for better comfort… to know my best friend… my little sister will know what it is to be loved in every circumstance.” you lightly chuckled seeing Ben lean over and kiss Lila’s cheek, making a tear fall.
Your lip quivered slightly as you began to speak again so you chuckled it away and shook your head, looking down for a moment and then back up at Ben.
“Ben, welcome to the family… I love you like a brother and couldn’t be more excited for you and my sister’s union today.” you smiled and tsked feeling more tears threatening to fall, “So with that, I’d like to toast to the happy couple, may your days be filled with love, laughter, and light– cheers.” you raised your glass and so did everyone else.
You nodded at your sister, assuring her you were ok, just happy for her.
She had tears falling down her cheeks, nodding back at you, then mouthed, ‘I love you’ to which you mouthed back.
After you sat back down, Ben’s brother, one of the other groomsmen, proposed a toast as well. To which was mainly sharing some embarrassing stories of him but turned out quite heartfelt and tender at the end.
After the toasts were done, it was time for the couple’s first dance.
The slow music that you sister and Ben had picked out started playing over the speakers, and the lights dimmed. You turned around in your chair to watch them on the dance floor. You leaned your chin against the back of the chair.
You were over the moon for your sister, so happy for her to find her happiness.
However, in this moment, you realize just how long you have put on a happy face. Since her engagement, you’d not let yourself feel anything but that- forged happiness.
Because as you watched them dance, whispering words of love to each other– a part of you felt sadness, and maybe some envy.
You can’t remember the last time you’d felt that vulnerable, that free with someone. The last time you felt a fraction of what you’d imagine she was feeling was back in high school at your senior prom.
‘God, that’s pathetic…’ you thought. That was over 15 years ago.
You shook your head and refocused, beginning to look around the room at all the happy couples as they watched them dance– observing their expressions, their reactions to their partners sitting next to them, surely whispering words of love as well.
You were so lost in your thoughts, so deep into the moment, that you didn’t hear the DJ announce for everyone else to join them on the dance floor for the next slow dance.
Your parents stood and started walking out to the dance floor together, pulling you from your thoughts.
You smiled at them and then looked back and around at all the happy couples joining them before you stood from your chair. You leaned down to grab your glass to go get another drink when you heard someone clear their throat behind you.
You leaned back up and turned around to find Harry, smiling softly at you with his hand outstretched to you, “May I have this dance?” using those brown puppy dog eyes to his advantage.
You looked at him and softly chuckled, feeling shy and nervous under his gaze. “I uh… I don’t know how to…” you started, trying to come up with an excuse.
“I’ll teach you…” He held his hand out a little more, “Just one dance?” he smiled just a little softer, tilting his head to the side playfully.
You bit the inside of your cheek, contemplating, and then sighed softly, “Just one…” you put your glass down as you smiled a little and then took his hand gently- this time a spark of electricity zinged up throughout your body.
He walked with your hand in his out to the dance floor and put the two of you in the middle, lost in the crowd, but when he turned to stand in front of you, it was like the rest of the world disappeared.
It was just you and him.
“So you’re going to hold my hand like this…” he moved your hand in his slowly, looking at your hands together then he looked back down at you, “Then your other hand can either rest on my chest… or on my shoulder or around my back…” he explained quietly, his expression was soft and tender.
You swallowed nervously and blushed. You nodded before putting it softly around his back and resting your hand on the back of his shoulder.
“I’m going to put my other hand on your waist…” he gently put his hand on your waist, pulling you closer to him slowly, your faces now impossibly close.
You couldn’t help but smile at how close you were to him, slightly blushing deeper.
His cologne smelled of bourbon and woodsmoke– it was intoxicating. It was comforting. It calmed you.
His hands were gentle and soft in the way he held you– like you were something to cherish. You felt like the only person in the world, in his world.
He softly spoke, interrupting your thoughts, “...and then all we’re going to do is step and sway back and forth…” he began to lead, and you followed.
The music was soft as you swayed with him. There was like a bubble you were both in– everything around you felt blurred or muffled.
After a few moments of silence, you looked up at him and tilted your head.
“So, you said you recognized me earlier…” You let out a nervous chuckle. “Should I be concerned?” you teased.
He immediately looked down at you and brought your hand in his, closer to his chest. This effectively pulled you a little closer so you two could hear each other better over the loud music.
He chuckling softly, “No– nothing like that. I’ve just been to your sister’s house. I’ve seen a few photos of you around her place…” he smiled softly down at you.
You nodded. “Ah, I see…” You let out a dramatic breath of relief.
He let out a soft chuckle again, then scoffed, “What? Did you think me a stalker or something?” he acted offended with the biggest smile across his face.
You smiled and pulled your head back a fraction, “No! No… I just… I don’t have very good luck with guys, that’s all…” You looked down for a moment, chuckling at his playfulness.
He hummed. “How so?” he asked, still looking down at you. Noticing you slowly opening up to him. Instinctively, his thumb started softly rubbing up and down on your waist as if he was trying to soothe you, coax you to open up to him.
You looked up at him and saw something in the way he looked at you. He was looking at you like there was something worth looking at.
However, this was something that immediately set off warning bells in your head. Ones that sounded the alarm to ‘man the walls’, ‘weapons at the ready’ type of alarm.
Ones that have been up for the last few months whenever something feels like this happens. Or when it feels like it’s getting real. Mechanisms that, over time, you've used to try to keep your heart safe.
You bit the inside of your cheek, and that wall went up– closing yourself back off. “Just… not had the best luck is all.” You cleared your throat and looked at the flower on his chest to focus on something that wasn’t his gaze.
He swallowed and bit his lip as he looked down at you, noticing the way you were closing yourself up again.
He’d known about what you’d been through, why you were closing up.
Unfortunately, he knew a few of the men that disrespected your time as they were men he and Ben worked with. Men he didn't understand why Ben and Lila would set you up with other than they were single and mutual friends.
Ben and he were good friends. They hung out often as they not only worked together but they had also had been friends since childhood, so there was that element too- a brotherhood.
That being said, whenever you came home early from a date and called Lila with the news and he was over at their house, he heard how Lila would try to talk you through it.
He was at Ben and Lila's when your last serious relationship ended on account of Damon, your ex, cheating on you. The sound of your cries on the other side of the phone as you sobbed and questioned your worth– no one should ever go through that.
After the dating apps ultimately turned you off to the idea of love– Lila would always try to set you up with mutual friends of hers or Ben’s– insisting since they knew them, it'd work out.
For some reason, though, he was never in the running– they never offered him.
He didn’t know why– maybe it was the different lifestyles? Perhaps Lila just didn’t think the two of you as compatible?
He never knew why, but today he confirmed there was something between the two of you. There was a spark.
He felt it.
He knew you felt it, too.
From the way you’d smile at him or the way you melted into his touch, he knew– now he just needed to convince you to give him a chance. He just needed a way in to start breaking down those walls you kept reinforcing.
He hummed and looked over at Ben and Lila as they danced. “I’ve had my fair share of bad luck too lately…” he admitted, trying to find common ground. “I took someone out last week… turns out they were just in it for the wrong reasons.”
You looked up at him, eyes expressing empathy. “Yeah? What reason? If you don't mind me asking...”
He tsked, “She was in it for the money.”
You chuckled, “You’re kidding me…” You chuckled more, thinking it was a joke, but then you realized he wasn’t laughing along.
You quickly stopped, and your smile faded. “Wait, you’re not kidding…” you realized. "Fuck... I'm so sorry..." you looked down, cursing again under your breath.
He couldn’t help but smile widely. “No, it's ok."
He waited for you to look back up before continuing "I, uh… god, how do I say this?” he chuckled.
You chuckled, now embarrassed but chuckled nonetheless, “You’re loaded?” you joked.
He chuckled a little louder, turning some heads around you, so he leaned in close to hide his chuckle, making you giggle.
He looked at you, your eyes meeting his, and slowly stopped chuckling, “I uh, I do well for myself… I’ll say that.” he cleared his throat softly.
You nodded and then looked at your hand in his, noticing the ring he was wearing. “Well for yourself? Harry, that ring costs more than a year of my salary…” you teased, smiling back up at him. “Who the hell are you?” you raised your eyebrow playfully.
Boom, there it was– the wall’s foundation cracking.
He took a moment and looked down at you, hearing the song close to ending, so he took a chance- he dove head first.
He smiled and nodded at you, “Let me take you out to dinner, I’ll show you…” he softly rubbed your waist with his thumb, “What do you say?” he leaned in a closer.
No sirens. No alarm bells.
Instead- Boom. One brick down. Bang bang… another.
You blushed, and the smile you had across your face somehow brightened at his boldness.
You took a moment, reading his eyes, trying to find something, anything to tell you to say no, but you couldn’t. He was sure of himself, so sure of you.
You swallowed shyly and went to answer when your dad interrupted, clearing his throat and putting his hand on Harry’s shoulder from behind him, “Mind if I cut in?” he said with a smile on his face, obviously not picking up on what was going on.
Harry’s eyes shot over to your dad's and he chuckled politely, slowly letting go of your waist but not your hand as it fell between you two, away from your dad, “Of course sir…” he looked down at you, “I’ll uh… I’ll find you later?” he said with hope in his tone.
You felt him run his thumb over your knuckles softly, you couldn’t stop the butterflies from erupting deep down.
You bit the inside of your cheek and nodded, “Yeah, find me later…” you gave his hand a small squeeze of reassurance.
He pursed his lips together to try and suppress the grin that was forcing itself on his lips but failed, “I will…” he said softly.
Your dad cleared his throat again, and Harry chuckled nervously and let go of your hand slowly, gently patting your dad's arm, “Good to see you again, Richard…” then walked away, heading towards the bar, looking back over his shoulder at you once more.
Your dad hummed then softly took your hand and positioned himself to dance with you. He caught your eyeline and nodded at you, “How you holding up, kiddo?” he smiled down at you.
You looked up at him and gently smiled, “I’m good– other than my feet killing me, I’m good.” You chuckled.
“Harry wasn’t botherin’ you?” he nodded over his way, raising his eyebrows.
You tsked and sighed, “Dad…” you softly laughed, knowing what he was doing.
He shrugged, “What? Can you blame me for worryin’?” he looked down at you, eyes soft with concern.
You shook your head, “No… no he wasn't.” you looked down and bit your lip, then looked back up at him, your expression softening, “What do you know about Harry? I mean other than he’s a good friend of Ben’s…” you inquired.
He looked out into the distance as he thought about what he had known from speaking to Ben about him previously and then speaking to him earlier today, “He’s some big wig in the city… makes real good money. Uh… I know from speakin’ to him earlier that he’s been good friends with Ben since they were young?” he looked at back you curiously, “Why do you ask?”
You shrugged and looked over at Ben and Lila, avoiding his eye contact, “Just askin’...” you said softly, sighing softly.
Your dad looked over at Harry, who was sitting by the bar, watching the two of you. He smiled softly at your dad– your dad nodded at him politely, then turned back to you, picking up on what he may have just interrupted between the two of you.
He spoke up softly, “If it’s… just in case you’re wonderin’... I know Ben wouldn’t let him near you without a ten-foot pool if he was bad news, right?”
You chuckled softly, looking at Ben, knowing how protective he had always been with you, “Yeah… that’s true.”
He took a breath and cleared his throat, attempting to get your attention. “Bug?”
You looked up at him, your eyes soft and curious. “Yeah, Dad?”
“I know you’re not lookin’ right now, and your heart is still mendin’... but take it from me… don’t let a good thing pass by just because you think you’re not worthy of it.” he looked at you with nothing but love in his eyes, “I love you bug, and I just want you to be happy.”
Your dad was someone who rarely spoke his mind. For him to say any of that shocked you. You took a moment before you smiled and leaned up, kissing his cheek, “I love you too, Dad…”
He smiled, then took your hands, backed up, and slowly spun you around, making you giggle happily as he pulled back and hugged you gently as the song came to an end.
The DJ came onto the audio system, and an old country song that your sister and dad loved started to play. You immediately knew what that meant as you looked at Lila, who was letting go of Ben’s hands.
The DJ announced over the room, “If everyone will please exit the dance floor, we will be havin’ the daddy-daughter dance now…” the music gradually getting a little louder.
Your dad kissed your cheek softly, “I’ll see you later, Bug…” and then walked away towards your sister, leaving you on the dance floor.
You moved off the floor with everyone and then looked towards the bar, expecting to see Harry there, but he wasn’t anywhere to be found.
You looked around and tried to find him in the reception hall but couldn’t see him, he just seemed to have vanished. He was just there; where could he have gone?
The longer you stood there looking around, your heart dropped a little.
After a few moments, you shook your head in disappointment and sighed. You cursed yourself for thinking that maybe something was happening between the two of you. The insecurity creeping itself back in.
You could feel your ears hear up the more embarrassed you felt, a lump forming in the back of your throat as well.
You clenched your jaw and breathed out a breath through your nostrils, grabbing your phone before you looked up and started walking over to the bar to reinforce that wall that had started to come down.
“Marinti, please?” you looked at the bartender. She nodded and smiled, starting to make it.
You sat on one of the stools and tucked your hair behind your ear, watching the woman make your drink, blocking out everything else around you.
Not long after, a young man came up to you, one of Ben’s old college roommates that Lila had tried to set you up with weeks ago, who had bailed at the last minute.
“Hey, you’re Lila’s sister, right?” he hiccuped, obviously intoxicated.
You turned your head and politely smiled, “Guilty as charged...” then looked back to the bartender as she handed you your drink, smiling and nodding at her to thank her.
“I’ll uh, buy you a drink…” he smirked, “I’m Diego…” he held his hand out, leaning against the bar on his side, crowding your space.
You chuckled softly, taking a sip of your drink. “Well, Diego, as flattering as that I’m sure would be— it’s an open bar, so no one needs to buy anyone a drink… it’s all been paid for...” you said, sounding a bit sarcastic and annoyed.
He didn’t catch the tone and snapped his fingers, like he’d had an epiphany, “Oh! You’re right!” he chuckled, “You… you’re so smart. Lila said you were smart…” he scooted a little closer to you, tapping the bar to ask for another drink from the bartender.
You took another sip of your drink, and nodded, “I am smart.” you then sighed at him looking at you up and down, feeling grossed out by the way his eyes darkened lustfully, “I’m also not interested in whatever tree you’re tryna bark up Diego…” you tightly smiled, now annoyed by his presence, taking another sip of your drink.
He frowned and tsked, “Oh come on, don’t be like that baby…” he put his hand on the small of your back, which made you choke on your drink.
You coughed then turned and shoved him off you, “I am not your baby and I won’t repeat it, back off asshole…” you warned.
He tilted his head, and a new darkness fell over him, one that raised a huge red flag in your mind.
He bit his lip, then raised his eyebrow, offended by your action. So he did what any tiny dicked asshole would do and attempted to make you feel just as small.
“Man, you know... they were all right about you… you’re a fuckin’ mess.” he spat, not liking the rejection he’d just received.
You felt your face turn red and tears start to well up, your heart beating so damn loudly that you could hear it in your ears.
You shook your head and clenched your teeth, looking down at your drink then picked it up, “You know what? Maybe I am a mess… but you just showed how tiny your dick is by that antic.” you splashed your drink on him and then smiled tightly, “Good luck scoring with someone else tonight smelling like that." you set your glass down.
"If there’s one thing that will dry a pussy up— it’s a man that smells like bad news…” You then quickly grabbed your things and walked past him towards the main exit doors.
You needed fresh air. You needed to get away from all this. It was all too much.
Harry had to step away to take a work call, so he moved to the bathroom area to find some quiet.
When he started walking back to the bar and saw you splash Diego with your drink and then storm out the other end of the hall. He weaved through the party crowd as fast as he could to follow you, concern written on his face.
When you opened the doors of the venue, you were met with a bitter cold gust of wind, making your breath hitch in the back of your throat.
You stepped out and let the door fall closed behind you. Your breathing then quickly became frantic and quick, emotions crashing down on you.
You felt suffocated by this whole night, by this whole last week. Diego just shut off the damn ventilator that was helping you breath.
You moved your feet forward and kept walking, beginning to somewhat hyperventilate, tears now falling.
You whispered as you quickly walked down the long set of stairs, needing to get as far away from that damn building as quickly possible, “F-fuck… fuck him… fuck all of it…” you muttered, softly sobbing.
You kept walking and just so happened to stroll into a vineyard area to the left, hugging your arms as you walked in the cold.
You felt so embarrassed, so humiliated by what Diego had said.
Is that what they all thought of you? Were you that big of a mess? Is that what Harry picked up on? Was that why he left?
Through the tears that partially blinded your vision, you saw a fountain in the middle of the vineyard. Fairy lights were gathered in the middle, creating an almost peaceful atmosphere.
It was beautiful. It was sanctuary.
You started to jog slowly to it, picking up the front of your dress.
Harry burst through the front doors, softly calling your name, expecting you to be there but when he didn’t find you he looked around, buttoning up his jacket due to the cold, “Fuck… where are you?” he asked himself.
His eyes searched the area.
There were only two things you could have done: hail a taxi and leave— which you wouldn’t do. He knew your sister would never let you live that down. That or escape somewhere close by.
He walked down the stairs, and then he saw the vineyard off to the side. Something in his gut told him to go that way, so he did.
He followed the path, looking down every quiet corner or empty bench.
When he got to the end of it and saw you by the fountain, sitting on the edge, your fingers dancing across the water— he let go of his breath.
He softened at the image before him, taking in the simple yet overwhelming beauty you were to him.
He went to walk but then stopped for a moment and swallowed before clearing his throat, trying not to startle or scare you, “You know, when you said to find you later, I was thinkin’ more by the bar or on the dance floor…” he teased as he put his hands in his pockets as he started walking towards you.
You turned around and saw him and for a split second, your heart leapt. You felt a sense of happiness, relief– but then that stupid insecurity overshadowed it and drop-kicked it out of your being.
You quickly looked back down at your lap, sadly chuckling, “I’m sorry. I thought you left. I couldn’t find you after I was finished with my dad…” You turned back towards the water and wiped your eyes on the back of your hand, hoping he didn’t see.
He tilted his head as saw you wipe your tears. “I made you a promise, querida…” he said and then sat down on the edge of the fountain, turning his head to look at you, “I’m a man of my word.”
You nodded, keeping your eyes on the water, little fish coming up to your fingertips, “You’re a rarity amongst men if that’s the case…” then scoffed out a chuckle.
He let the moment sit in silence, letting you have the peace he could tell you needed.
The music from the reception hall was loud enough you could hear it from where the two of you were.
He listened to the music, and as it began to slow down, an instrumental version of 'Your Needs, My Needs' by Noah Kahan started to play.
He stood and turned to face you, extending his hand, “We never got to finish our dance…” his eyes soft, inviting. His smile was tender and gentle.
You looked up at him and then his hand, everything in your body cemented you where you sat. Everything was telling you not to reach up and take his hand, but when you levetated to your feet and took his hand, it almost felt like it was a gravitational pull– it was magnetic.
He pulled you softly to the middle of the courtyard, then let go of your hand. “First things first…” he took off his suit jacket and then wrapped it around your shoulders. “Can’t have you catchin’ a cold, can we?”
You put your arms through the sleeves. It drowned you.
You looked down at yourself and couldn’t help but giggle at how ridiculous you must look.
He chuckled and took a step back to look at you, “Much better…” he stepped back and then effortlessly took your hand again. “Now come ‘ere…” then put his hand on your waist, pulling you close.
You blushed so red that you felt like there might be steam coming from how hot your cheeks felt against the bitter cold at the way he was with you.
Your other hand instinctively landed on his shoulder, lightly holding onto it. You looked down to suppress the smile that had been plastered across your lips.
He swayed with the music, smiling to himself, knowing he was pulling you out of that shell, knocking down that wall again.
He waited a few moments, then tempo changed he chuckled and took a small step back to spin you around slowly.
You giggled and spun around slowly, looking up at him, seeing he was smiling just as much as you were.
When he pulled you back into him, you lost your balance, the alcohol you’d had earlier making you feel a bit light on your feet. You fell into him, lightly yelping as you did so.
You knocked both of you back a few steps, but he recovered with ease. “Woah there…” he teased as his arm wrapped around your waist to catch you as he stumbled back, chuckling.
You giggled a little louder, feeling silly for the loss of balance. “Told you I couldn’t dance…”
He chuckled and rubbed his thumb against the small of your back that his hand was now holding you at, “You never said you couldn’t dance, querida… just that you didn’t know how…” he corrected as he retook your hand, pulling it close to his chest, in between the two of you, starting to sway with you once again.
You pulled back a little to bounce something back at him, putting your hand on his chest to help you balance.
But your mind was distracted as you could feel his heartbeat against your palm, it pounding just as quickly as yours.
He was just as excited and nervous as you were with him.
You heard him say your name softly, but it was muffled, your head swirling.
He said it again, this time using his hand on your back to gently pinch your chin between his thumb and forefinger, pulling your eyes up to meet his, saying your name once more, and leaning in a tad.
Your name sounded different coming off his tongue. It sounded right. It was like everyone had been saying your name incorrectly– you’d been saying it wrong.
With him, it felt warm, full of light– he gave it purpose.
You were about to say something, having even inhaled before, but before the first syllable came out of your mouth, your phone dinged a couple of times, interrupting the moment.
You cleared your throat, "Sorry, excuse me..."
You stepped out of his arms and walked over to it as it lay on the concrete wall of the fountain. You picked it up and looked down at it. It was your mom.
‘Where are you? Lila is about to leave! She said you’re in charge of handing out sparklers to guests?’
‘Hello?’
‘I need you to answer me…’
‘This isn’t a time to sulk and disappear if that’s what you’re doing. You need to come back to the venue.’
You sighed softly and swallowed down everything you’d been feeling, reality setting back in, that last message hitting a nerve.
You felt the wall reinforce itself, and with that, you went back to closing yourself up.
You typed back as response then looked up at Harry as he stood there, waiting for you with a soft smile on his face.
“Sorry uhm, I need to get back…” You picked up your things. You took off his jacket and gently handed it to him, smiling politely before starting to walk back, keeping your head down.
There was that shift again. The warmth he just felt you exude, and again when you were both on the dance floor in his arms– it was gone. Things had changed. You closed back up. What happened? What the hell did Diego say to you? Who the hell just texted you?
He stood there, and something fueled inside him; he wasn’t one to give up so easily.
He put his jacket on and quickly caught up with you. “Wait- I’ll walk with you…” He gently placed his hand on the small of your back.
You kept your eyes forward or down, avoiding eye contact with him. That insecurity that Diego had found earlier was back to its normal scheduled programming of making you feel small, insignificant– worthless.
He cleared his throat softly as you exited the vineyard and started walking back towards the venue, “Hey uhm, whatever Diego said to earn you throwing a drink at him, don’t listen to him— he’s a fool.” he turned his head to look down at you.
You shook your head and tsked, “Yeah… well, he had a point.” you said numbly as you started walking back up the stairs.
He stopped and stayed at the bottom, looking at you as you went up. “What did he say to dim that pretty light of yours?”
You stopped a few steps up, your hand on the rail, and kept your eyes fixated on the ground, tears starting to well in your eyes as you replayed his words in your mind. You moved up a few more stairs.
He walked up a couple of stairs as you moved, to be just below you, proclaiming, “Because whatever he said, cariño, I can prove that he’s wrong…” he said softly, sounding like he was pleading for a chance.
You stopped moving, and for a split second, those doors opened back up. You felt like you were easing into him, trusting in his words.
However, just as fast as they opened, they shut– your mom being the catalyst.
“Where the hell have you been? I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” she shouted from the top of the stairs, looking down at you with her hand on her hip. She then saw Harry below you and she instantly changed her tone, “Oh Harry, sweetheart, how’s your evening been?”
You sighed and shook your head, scoffing at her personality change before running up the stairs, leaving Harry where he was.
He was so close, so close to breaking through those walls.
He looked up at your mom, “Evenin’, Mrs. Winters.” he politely smiled then his eyes followed you as you ran up the stairs.
He was now determined more than before. He wouldn’t allow you to think of yourself in any way that someone like Diego might have described you or whoever texted you.
Hell no.
He clenched his jaw and scaled the stairs up to her. “Did you need your daughter’s help with something? Perhaps I can assist?” he smiled.
About 20 minutes later, you had everyone outside and sparklers lit, the happy couple running down the stairs down to a limo that was ready to take them to the airport for their honeymoon.
After you and the families said goodbye as they left, everyone started to clear out and pack up.
Your mom grabbed your arm and pulled you aside at the bottom of the stairs. "Okay, so to get the deposit back, we need to have this place cleaned in the next two hours.” She had a panicked look in her eye.
You chuckled, your feet and back aching from the long day you’d had, unlike her, who had spent most of the night drinking champagne. “You’re kidding, right?” You looked at her in disbelief. Leave it to her to do something like this after a day like this.
She raised her eyebrow and laughed, pulling you by the hand up the stairs, “Oh, Bug, you’re so funny— of course, I’m not kidding!”
Harry was talking to another groomsman towards the top when he saw you being dragged by your mom. He excused himself and ran inside after you both. “Mrs. Winters!” he called.
Your mom turned around and smiled brightly, letting your hand go, “Oh, thank you so much for all your help today, dear!” She touched his arm, smiling brightly at him.
He smiled down at you, then looked at your mom. “I, uh, was wondering if you needed any help with the cleanup?” He was going to do anything he could to spend more time with you tonight.
“Oh, there’s no need for that! My Richard said you had an early morning— you should go home and get some sleep! I’m sure today has been so exhausting for you.” she tsked sympathetically and now patting his arm.
He smiled warmly, “That’s very kind of you but with all due respect, ma’am, it wouldn’t be right of me as the best man to leave you to do all this work.” he put his hand over hers, “Put me to work— I must insist.” he winked at her.
Your mom looked at you and raised her eyebrow towards Harry as she leaned over to whisper to you. “See now, why can’t you find a man like him, Bug?” she jabbed at you, in her way, trying to be funny.
Normally, you’d feed into her humor and punch something back. However, that hit a nerve this time.
You looked at her sadly and bit your lip, then muttered under your breath as you turned away, “I’m going to go… do something else…” Then you walked away towards the refreshment table, going to pack up the food first.
Your mom noticed the sudden drop in your mood and felt like shit. “Shoot, I…” she sighed and wanted to go after you but knew you would need space from her after something like that.
Harry noticed how the comment immediately made you shrink, and the look you had across your face broke his heart.
He looked down at your mom and cleared his throat softly. “I’m going to go help her…” he nodded and then walked towards where you were packing everything up into to-go containers.
He came up and stood next to you, starting to help pack up the food in silence. After a few minutes he stopped and turned his head, “I don’t know what Diego said, or what’s goin’ on..." he softly sighed.
"You don’t have to say anything, but just know I’m here. “ I’m here if you need someone to talk to,” he said, reaching over and gently touching your hand, which was lying flat on the table as you listened to him.
You clenched your jaw, and tears began to well up at his touch. You kept your eyes on the box in front of you, doing everything you could to not melt into a puddle of tears in front of him.
For the last few months, there was a pain deep in your chest that had been festering– not allowing anyone in, anyone close enough to you.
However, no matter how hard that fester tried to push him away or avoid him tonight, he kept coming back. He kept showing up.
You couldn’t help but feel the pain start to morph into something different under his touch. It wasn’t pain, it wasn’t depression, it wasn’t sadness.
Instead, it was something light. It was something hopeful.
It was your heart starting to beat again- beginning to mend.
Chapter 2
Summary:
After a few moments of close intimacy at your sister's wedding, you begin to navigate and process how you feel about Harry. However, after the wedding, you both realize your work lives are a lot busier than you'd like. Making it hard to find time to reconnect and see each other. You start to get discouraged, but Harry takes that as an opportunity to do what he does best.
Chapter Text
For the last hour, Harry put tables and chairs away in the dining hall just to be near you while you cleared the tables beforehand.
You were mostly silent, but occasionally, you’d offer a soft smile to each other or he'd gently touch your arm while walking past each other in a tight area. Something to let you know he was there without saying it.
Whether you wanted to admit it or not, you craved being around him.
He felt refreshing, and safe. And for the first time in a long time, it was starting to bring out a part of you that you hadn’t seen in a while.
As the night went on, you slowly started to open up. Being around him warmed you back up.
You were cleaning up the last refreshment table, packing up the extra food, humming to yourself.
After you finished, you picked up a few boxes and moved them to the kitchen area. You put them down and grabbed a pen to write some labels.
Harry walks in and is talking with Ben’s brother, Billy as they were both carrying two buckets that were used for ice and drinks.
“I’d love to talk to you more about it—why don’t you call my office on Monday and have my assistant schedule you a meeting with me? I’ll tell her you’ll be calling…” he said as he came over and grabbed a spare bottle of water that had been set aside from the cooler.
Billy smiled and scoffed, shocked. “You mean it?” he said excitedly.
“Of course, " he said, taking a swig of the water. "We are always looking for new ways to invest in our future and upcoming businesses—I’d love to look at yours in more depth.” He winked at Billy, then set the bottle down, took off his suit jacket, and set it on the counter. He started to roll up his sleeves, his eyes casually finding you.
“Thanks, man. I’ll call on Monday! " He heard his dad call for him, so he cleared his throat and looked your way. “Hey, uh, your mom’s looking for you; she’s packing the car up.”
You looked behind you and smiled softly at him. “Thanks, Billy, I’ll go find her in a sec…” You turned back and continued writing on the boxes.
After Billy had stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him, Harry strolled over and leaned against the counter, looking down at you as you wrote.
You tried to hide your smile, looking down as you wrote. “Can I help you?” you asked.
He smiled and hummed softly, tilting his head as his eyes cascaded over your figure, admiring you, memorizing little things about you. “Nope just…” he softly sighed as he tilted his head the other way, his smile growing.
You blushed, feeling what he was doing, and stopped writing. You looked up; his eyes found yours as you straightened to stand.
You went to say something when you heard your mom call your name.
You softly sighed, put on the pen cap, and set it down. “Sorry, if you’ll excuse me…”
You went to move past him when he moved as well to leave but instead blocked you both in, his hand landing on your waist as you bumped into each other.
You looked up at him, and your cheeks immediately heated up, your breath getting caught. It was like a spark zapped through your body.
He smiled down at you. “Sorry, I uhm…”
You let out a small chuckle, looking down shyly. “Here, let’s…” You gently put your hands on his arms and moved yourself one way and him the other, both of you flustered by the close contact.
You went to walk past him but then stopped and looked over your shoulder. “Harry?”
He looked up from shyly messing with his water bottle’s label. “Yeah?”
You turned around to look at him. “Thanks for helping tonight… well, actually all day. You’ve been a huge help.” You pursed your lips together and looked down at your fingers messing with the seam of your dress, shyly speaking, “I’ve, um, I…” You softly sighed, chickening out, “I know everyone appreciates it.” You looked up at him and softly smiled then turned back to leave.
His whole being softened. He nodded and smiled softly. “Of course, querida.”
You stopped and turned back around. You tilted your head at the term he’s used for you a few times today. Your smile grew a tad. “Querida? What does that mean? You’ve called me that a few times…”
He set the water bottle down, and his smile grew slightly wider. “Querida is a term of endearment in Spanish, " he said, walking closer to you.
You watched as he walked closer. “Term of endearment?” you blushed and tried to suppress a smile. “So like darling, honey or sweetheart…” You straightened your head. “Which does querida mean?”
He nodded and came to stand in front of you. “Querida means sweetheart or my darling.” he reached out and tucked at a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his eyes following his hand. “Is that ok? To call you that?” He then looked into your eyes.
Your breath hitched when he tucked the strand behind your ear, and your mind suddenly became mush. “To uhm…” You started to feel flustered, and your throat dried up. “Call me sweetheart or your darling?” you hoarsely whispered, your eyes looking at his lips for a fraction of a second.
He hummed and nodded as his eyes danced across your face, his hand lingering by your cheek momentarily, his thumb gently caressing your skin. “I can call you other things, like… corazón or mi cielo…” His eyes found your lips, and he swallowed, wanting to step closer.
His heart was pounding, there was a flutter in his stomach, and his mouth went dry.
You saw where his eyes landed, and everything in you felt like you were buzzing. You couldn’t explain the feeling other than you felt alive.
You swallowed nervously and pressed your lips together, looking down at his lips. “Harry?” you murmured.
It was like he was under a spell; he couldn’t think straight. Everything he did was purely fueled by how you looked and spoke to him. How his name rolled off your tongue, how you leaned into his touch. He couldn’t explain it other than he felt this pull towards you.
Ever since this morning, he’s gravitated to you.
“Yes?” he muttered, looking up to meet your eyes, his hand still lingering by your cheek.
“I —” Then you heard your mother shout your name from the reception hall again, followed by Billy opening the door to the kitchen.
Both of you quickly separated and took a significant step back, blushing and smiling to yourselves as you turned away from each other.
Billy realized and cleared his throat, “Sorry to interrupt, uhm, your mom is calling for you again, says it’s important…”
You nodded frantically. “Yeah, sorry…” your voice cracked. You swallowed and cleared your throat. “Excuse me…” You gently pushed past Billy and quickly rushed out to where she was.
A few moments of silence passed before Billy looked at Harry and grinned. “Lila’s sister, eh?”
Harry let out a small, shaky chuckle and pushed his hair back, gathering himself. “Uhm, do you need help with anything?” He grinned and ran his thumb against his lip as he processed what had happened, what he thought could have happened if not interrupted.
Billy chuckled, “Mind helping me load up my dad’s truck with half of this food?” He opened the door a little wider to invite him to come help.
Harry nodded and chuckled, “Yeah, of course, man.” he undid his bow tie and the top button of his collar.
During the remainder of the night, you were stuck on going through a checklist and ensuring everything was done per your mother's request.
Harry and you shared stolen glances, purposely finding something to discuss so you’d have a moment together after the kitchen’s interaction. However, you two never found another moment alone, and the tension kept building.
When everything was finalized and you were all heading out with everyone, your dad turned to you and smiled, “Are you ready to head out, kiddo?” Your mom and Ben’s family were already out the doors ahead of him.
You were silently walking beside Harry, your hands inches from each other. The tension between you two was almost unbearable.
You looked at your dad and nodded, “Yeah, yeah, I’ll be a minute…”
He looked at you and then Harry and nodded. “It’s good to see you again, Harry. Have a good night.”
Harry held out his hand, which your dad took and shook. “Have a good night, sir.”
Your dad smiled softly, then looked at you and smiled, “We’ll just be in the car, Bug.”
You nodded and smiled softly before he turned and left, leaving you and Harry alone in the foyer.
He turned to face you and smiled, “So…” he looked at you with those big brown eyes, putting his hands in his pockets.
You shyly looked down. “So…” You bit your lip and then looked up at him with your eyes, smiling softly.
He tilted his head; his smile grew a little brighter. “When can I see you again?”
You titled your head with him and tsked, “I have a busy few weeks coming up, but uhm…” You opened your purse and pulled out a business card, walking up to him slowly. “Call me…” You held out your card and looked up at him.
He gently took it, your fingers brushing against his.
He grinned and then looked down, seeing where you worked. “The Ritz-Carlton?” His eyes shot up to yours.
“I’m the manager there.” you smiled.
He lightly chuckled, “How have we not run into each other before now? I’m there almost every month or so for business meetings.” he looked down at you, grinning.
You chuckled and shrugged, “I’m not sure, maybe we’ve briefly met?”
He shook his head. “Querida, trust me. I’d know if we had met before tonight…” He looked down at your card and put it into his jacket pocket.
“Oh really? Why so confident in that?” You grinned up at him.
He looked down at you and bit the inside of his cheek before grinning wider, “Because the first time I laid eyes on you earlier this morning, I haven’t been able to get you outta my head since…”
Your cheeks blushed, butterflies erupting in your stomach again tonight, and your heart began beating quickly against your chest.
“All day, huh?” Your eyes danced back and forth between his eyes and lips.
He nodded and went to cup your cheek when you heard a courtesy honk from your parent's car outside, effectively ruining the moment.
You shyly looked down and sighed then backed up, tucking your hair behind your ear. “That’s my impatient mother who has zero patience…"
He chuckled and bit his lip, watching you back away, "She sure has a knack for interrupting us, doesn't she?"
You giggled and nodded, "We'll have to fix that."
"We will." he said watching you.
You turned a deeper shade of red and breathed out nervously, smiling softly. "I, um, I hope to hear from you.” You walked to the front door and opened it, keeping your eyes on him.
He smiled at you. “You will.”
You nodded. “Goodnight, Harry.”
“Goodnight, querida.” He said softly.
A few days later
You had a dentist conference being hosted at the hotel for the past few days. Everything had to be in tip-top shape, meaning you had been busy for about 12-14 hours daily.
Today was the final day of this conference before a wedding was to be hosted, starting tomorrow.
Since Lila's wedding, Harry tried to call you the next day. Unfortunately, you were in the middle of a meeting with your department heads and were unable to answer. Then, when you went to call him back, he was also in a meeting.
Since then, the two of you have been playing a fun game of phone tag.
It was about 8 a.m., and you had a moment between meetings when you dialed his number, hoping to catch him. To your disappointment, it went to his voicemail after ringing several times. You opened up the text chain you two had in addition to the back-and-forth voicemails you’d left each other.
‘Good morning! I just tried to call. I have an hour today at noon and wanted to ask if you wanted to grab a coffee? We’ve been trying to arrange something and haven’t had the best luck lining up our schedules. Let me know! 💗’
You continued your day and checked your phone occasionally but never heard from him.
‘He must be busy today; he mentioned having some big deal happening this week,’ you told yourself, trying to keep the anxious thoughts of rejection out of your mind.
Noon, the hour you thought you’d have, was sabotaged by a mix-up with one of the executive's suites. You got a call to head up to floor 7 as someone requested a manager.
You went upstairs and started walking down the hall towards the loud noise known as Mr. Jackson.
He was yelling at one of your maids for putting the wrong thread-count sheets on his bed. He was a regular complainer, someone you hated seeing in the books.
You cleared your throat to get his attention, “Sir?”
He turned around to face you, his face reddened with anger, a vein bulged on his temple, “Are you the manager?” he shouted.
You could see your maid’s head was down from the way he was speaking to her, and she was embarrassed by her error.
“I am.” You held your hand out, which he took, so you firmly shook his hand. “I’ve been told there was a mix-up with your sheets. Is that correct?” you cut straight to business.
He tilted his head and cleared his throat, “Yes, this servant has messed up m–”
You cut him off and smiled politely, “Firstly, she’s not a servant, she’s a maid. She’s also a human being; errors can be made, and no one here is perfect. The important thing is how we can fix them, yes?”
He nodded, and the color fell from red to slightly pink, he started to calm down. “Yes, ma’am…” he started to lower his voice.
“Good.” You looked at Selena and smiled, “Selena, let’s get Mr. Jackson’s sheets correctly addressed…” You then looked at him, “And if you’ll follow me, sir, I’d like to offer you a complementary lunch on us– as well as a spa treatment following after. How does that sound?” You gently wrapped your arm around his and guided him towards the elevator.
He stuttered, “I uhm… yes, that would be great.”
You pressed the elevator button and then stepped in with him. “Perfect. Now, is there anything else that I can help you with, Mr. Jackson?”
He cleared his throat. “Uhm, no ma’am…” The elevator dinged at the restaurant's floor, opening up.
You stepped out and smiled. “Lovely.” You let go of his arm and walked to the restaurant, leaning over the hostess's table. “Rena, please get Mr. Jackson a table. His lunch will be on us today...” you smiled at her.
She looked at you and smiled back. “Of course!” She looked at him and offered to let him follow her.
You took a deep breath and then rolled your shoulders forward, whispering, “Just one more day with him, just one more day…”
Your earpiece came on, the main receptionist calling your name.
You pushed the button to call back. “Yes, Sophia?” You straightened yourself up and started heading back up to the lobby through the service stairway.
“I’ve got a delivery here for you to sign…” she said back.
“I’m heading up now. Give me two minutes?” You walked up the stairs to the lobby and exited to the backroom behind the reception desk.
You opened the door and saw Sophia writing something in the check-in book with the phone to her ear. “Hey, Soph, where can I sign?” you whispered, coming up behind her.
She pointed to a massive arrangement of roses sitting on the counter, but you could see a hand holding it up. You instantly recognized the ring. “Harry?” you said excitedly.
He peeked around and instantly smiled, “Querida…” he picked up the arrangement.
You came around the desk and blushed, “What are you doing here? I…” You couldn’t help the smile you had on your face.
He chuckled and walked up to you. “First, these are for you…” He extended his arms to hand you the arrangement of what you could guess was at least 50 roses.
You let out a small chuckle, blushing, “Harry, these are…” You looked down at them, speechless, taking a small breath to smell them.
“I… I wanted to see you. I feel we've been just out of sync since Lila's wedding...” he said softly, watching you as you enjoyed the flowers.
You looked up at him and smiled shyly. “Do you… I, uhm, I called earlier—texted, too. I’ve got maybe a half hour—could you do coffee?” You set the bouquet on the reception counter before looking back at him.
“I got both. I’m sorry I didn’t respond… I kind of wanted the element of surprise…” he walked up to you, smiling softly.
Your smile grew as you looked up at him. You tilted your head a fraction. “Well, consider me surprised…”
He looked down at you and tilted his head like you did. “Good.”
He gently took your hand by delicately holding your fingers and intertwining them with his. "Now, did you say coffee?” he raised his eyebrow.
You nodded. “I’ve got a half hour before my next meeting. Uhm, there’s a shop down the street. Is that OK?”
He backed up and held your hand, pulling you towards the doors, “If I’ve only got a half hour with you, let's get movin’...”
You giggled and looked back at Sophia. “I’ll be back at 1! Send any messages to my voicemail!”
She smiled at you sweetly and nodded, “Yes, ma’am…”
You turned back and caught up with Harry, holding his hand as he opened the door for you. You thanked him and walked out, starting to head towards the shop. “Thank you for the flowers; they are beautiful!”
He smiled and looked down at your hands as you two walked. “You’re welcome. I didn’t know your favorite flower, so I thought roses were a good place to start.” he lightly chuckled, looking back up.
You smiled and then looked up at him, raising your eyebrow. “To start, huh? Does that mean I’m to expect more flowers?” you leaned into him playfully.
He liked seeing you more open today. You were more affectionate, willing to hold his hand and lean into him. You were more playful as well. The walls you’d had up at the wedding were starting to dissolve, and he hoped they would continue to stay that way with more effort from him.
What he really liked, though, was knowing that he had done something to put a smile on your face after what he knew had been a long week. Acts of service and gift-giving were two of his love languages, and to feel like you genuinely appreciated the effort --made his heart soar.
“Perhaps. Flowers are just one of many things I have in the rotation.” he leaned back into you and brought your hand to his lips to lightly kiss. “So, with that being said, what are your favorite flowers?” he smiled down at you.
You blushed at the gentleness he showed you and looked down as you continued to walk, “No one’s ever asked me that before…” you let out a light chuckle, “I’m not sure…” you looked back up at him, “Can I get back to you on that?”
You both approached the doors of the quaint coffee shop, and he opened the door, letting go of your hand. “No one’s ever asked you or given you your favorite flowers?” he scoffed. “That’s a crime in itself...” he grumbled.
You chuckled as you walked past him into the doors and waited for him inside. “Hey, I told you—I didn’t have the best luck with guys,” you shrugged.
He hummed and put his hand on the small of your back as he walked up to you. “Well, I guess I can get one thing out of you today if I don’t get to know your favorite flower…” He looked up at the coffee shop's menu while you waited behind a few people ordering.
You looked up at him and chuckled, “Oh? What’s that?”
He looked down at you and instantly softened; his thumb softly rubbed your back. “Your coffee order, querida…”
You smiled wider. His eagerness to learn the little things about you, to learn about your likes and dislikes-- it was a quality you'd never had in a partner before. You also never had someone put as much effort as he had in just the few interactions you've had, he didn't feel real.
You blushed under his gaze, and his thumb was hypnotizing you. Your eyes darted to his lips for a fraction of a second before the barista cut through your spell. “Good afternoon, folks. What can I get for you?” she asked, effectively snapping you out of the daze you were in.
You quickly turned towards her and let out a shaky breath, again feeling flustered. Your cheeks were on fire with how much you blushed, but you smiled at her and ordered your drink.
When Harry stepped forward just a tad to order and pay for your drinks, you shyly looked away, trying to get yourself centered. Because for a split second, there was a moment. A small but significant moment when every fiber in you wanted to lean in and kiss him. You’d had one other moment like this when the two of you said goodbye after the wedding, but this was stronger.
Harry’s hand returned to your back, regaining your attention as he cleared his throat softly. “Shall we sit inside or outside?”
You looked out the window. It was sunny and the perfect weather to sit under a canopy and sip coffee.
You reached behind you and took his hand. “Let’s go outside; it’s a lovely day.”
He nodded towards the door and lightly squeezed your hand, “Lead the way, sweetheart…”
You walked out and found a table to sit at. “Will this be ok?” You put your free hand on the back of the chair to pull for yourself.
He tsked and put his hand next to yours, letting go of your other hand. “Allow me…”
You looked up at him and stood there speechless for a moment.
He looked at you, and he chuckled softly. His brown eyes softened as you reacted, and his dimples came out with the smile produced by the light chuckle: “Let me guess, never had your chair pulled out for you?”
You shook your head and looked down shyly before allowing him to pull it out.
You sat down for him to tuck it in for you before he walked over to sit across from you.
“I’ll just say this—chivalry has been lifeless for me until you came into my life…” you lightly chuckled and looked down shyly. "In fact, the last time my date drove me home, he got 10 shades of angry when I didn’t invite him in… so forgive me if I ever just stand there and… buffer.” You messed with the tablecloth, avoiding his gaze.
He leaned back in his seat a bit and looked at you adoringly as you rambled on.
You looked up through your eyelashes and bit your cheek. “What is your favorite flower?” you asked, trying to catch him off guard and get him to stop gawking at you with his gaze.
His gaze didn’t falter when he softly spoke, “Orchids.”
You hummed. “Any particular reason?” You tilted your head as you leaned your arms on the able and leaned forward.
“My mother always had them in our kitchen growing up. They remind me of her…” he smiled and looked down at the cloth, pinching it between his thumb and forefinger, “She has… hmm… maybe four now? I lost count.” He lightly chuckled. “She tends to gift them out after she takes care of them; then she’ll buy more.”
You chuckled and nodded. “She must have a green thumb because the one time I had an orchid, it was dead in two weeks…”
He chuckled and looked up at you. “To be fair, they aren’t the easiest to care for…”
You nodded. “That’s what I’ve heard. Although I am not the best with plants, it could have been me, too…” you shrugged.
The barista came out with your drinks and a chocolate croissant for each of you.
Harry leaned forward after thanking her and looked at you. “I saw you eyein’ the croissants in the display case, thought you’d like one…”
You shook your head, smiling, “You’ve got like a radar. I didn’t even say anything!” you chuckled.
“I just pay attention to those that matter to me.” he shrugged and sipped his coffee.
You blushed and took a sip, then a tiny bite of the croissant, closing your eyes at how good it tasted. Softly moaning, “Good god, that’s divine…” you said as you covered your mouth and opened your eyes to look at it.
He turned a light shade of pink at the sound you made and adjusted his hips slightly. “That good, huh?” he picked his up and took a bite, humming and nodding.
You smiled at him. “I’ve always wanted to go to France. You know, have authentic things like croissants, pain au chocolat, macarons…” You took another bite and covered your mouth. “Have you ever been to France Mr. Businessman?”
He chuckled and looked up at you as he nodded, “I’ve been a couple of times, mostly for business, though… " He winked, then took a sip of his coffee. “I haven’t enjoyed the tourist things, though. I would love to return to the places I’ve been to on business but for pleasure, you know?” he softly smiled at you.
You nodded and shrugged. “The furthest I’ve ever been outside New York is Jersey…” you chuckled softly.
He took another bite of his croissant and smiled. “You never traveled when you were a kid?”
You shook your head and took another bite before sipping your coffee and swallowing. “My parents struggled a lot when I was growing up. It wasn’t until I got into high school that things started to get better for them.” You looked down at the tablecloth and messed with the wrinkles. “It was time to graduate by then, and I started working immediately after to put myself through school. I never had the time or money to travel after that.” You shrugged nonchalantly.
He took another bite while you were talking and then wiped his mouth with a napkin before responding, “Do you ever get time off?”
You chuckled, “I have a stockpile of time off; I just never take it. There’s no point when you can’t afford anything…” You flattened the wrinkles and looked up at him, softly smiling.
He hummed before taking another sip of his coffee. “So tell me, what’s goin’ on at work this week? You’ve said it’s been busy and going to stay busy?” he looked at you and leaned back in his chair.
“Well, there’s a dental conference until tomorrow, and then we have a wedding being hosted for the mayor's son for the weekend, so it’ll be all hands on deck…” You took a small sip of your coffee.
He hummed and nodded, “William’s getting married, that’s right…” he raised his eyebrow as he looked down at his coffee, “That’s on Friday right?”
You looked at him and scoffed, “How do you know the mayor's son? By name, I might add?” you leaned forward curiously.
He nervously ran his thumb over his bottom lip and chuckled, “I uhm, I dated his older sister a few years ago…”
“Oh!” you nodded and smiled softly, “Rebecca, right?”
He nodded, “Yeah, that’s it,” then stayed quiet as he looked down, not wanting to divulge how that relationship ended. His body language seemed to shrink, and you felt him do what you do, put a wall up.
You hummed, understanding not to probe. You cleared your throat and took another small sip of your coffee. “What does your week look like? Is it as busy as mine?” you smiled, changing the subject.
He looked up, and his eyes immediately lit up again. He cleared his throat softly, “I, uh, I’ve got a few meetings over the next few days, but after, things should slow down.” he smiled and leaned forward, “When do things slow down for you, querida?”
You pinched your lips together and looked down, “I uhm…” you stammered and blushed at the nickname again then your phone started buzzing on the table, your works name showing up, “Damn it…” you muttered.
You looked up and furrowed your eyebrows. “This is work. Would you mind if I took it quick?”
He shook his head and smiled, “No, not at all…”
You smiled but then stood and put the phone to your ear, stepping away from the table. You put a finger to your other ear to hear over the sounds of the busy streets nearby.
Harry sat and watched you, taking a few more bites and finishing his croissant.
He noticed how you squinted and scrunched your nose when you were deep in thought. He saw how you handled what he assumed was a challenging situation with ease and adaptability. He admired a woman who could take charge and was good under pressure. But he also knew he could make you melt under his touch, which he loved about you.
You came back and sighed, “I’m so sorry. They need me back at the hotel. There was some big mix-up that they needed me to sort out…” You grabbed your coffee and took another sip. "Can I text or call you later? I feel horrible for cutting this short.” You quickly started to gather your things.
He stood and watched you. “Call me. I’m done for the day.”
You looked at him and smiled softly. “Thanks for… this and for the flowers, I…” you chuckled and blushed. "I needed this.” You stood before him with your hands in front of you, holding your phone shyly.
He smiled at you and nodded, “Me too…”
You looked down shyly and pursed your lips together, not knowing what to do or say. There was that tension between the two of you again- intense and strong.
There was a slight pause before he softly cleared his throat.
“Why don’t I walk back with you? Give us a few more minutes?” he offered his hand.
You looked up and saw his hand, then nodded as you took it. “So… tell me about your meeting earlier. How did it go?” You looked up at him, softly pulling him to follow you as you walked a few steps backward before turning forward.
He chuckled lightly and started walking back with you, telling you about his meeting as you returned to the hotel.
You didn’t get home until late, around 11 pm to be exact.
You sighed and fell onto your bed, groaning into the sheets.
Your feet were swollen, your back sore, your head started to pound, and your eyes began to feel heavy.
You still had your heels on and were fully clothed. You dropped your keys, purse, and flowers at the door and walked straight to your bedroom.
There was no time nor desire to do anything else but get to get off your feet.
You turned onto your back and kicked your heels off while pulling your phone out of your pocket, pulling up Harry’s message thread, and typing:
‘I’m so sorry. I just got home. I’m sure you’re asleep by now. Thank you again for today. I’ll try to call you on my lunch hour tomorrow to make up for tonight… 💗’
You set your phone down and sighed deeply, “Fuck…” then sat up and started undressing, needing to take a shower.
You walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower, humming a song you’d heard on the radio on the way home, it now stuck on a loop in your head.
You took your toothbrush from the cupboard and put a line of toothpaste on it before running it under the water. You began brushing your teeth while the shower water warmed up, tapping your foot as you stood against the door, humming to yourself.
You started to think about the events of earlier today, how everything just felt simple, and it felt so clear around Harry. He brought out a part of you that made you feel lighter, happier, warmer, and more confident. After he dropped you off, nothing brought you down. You were on a cloud. He had a way of making you feel like you were the center of the world, and it was something you didn’t know you needed to feel. You had no idea that feeling valid and desired could change your outlook on so much.
However, here you were, smiling like an idiot while you brushed your teeth, thinking about your coffee date with Harry Castillo.
You leaned forward to spit and rinse your mouth when your phone rang in the bedroom.
You quickly spat out the toothpaste and rinsed your mouth before rushing to your bed to find Harry’s name across your screen; he was calling you.
The fatigue you were just feeling? Gone. You felt a jolt of electricity zapping your central nervous system awake.
You threw your phone onto the bed and yelped, surprised by the call.
Fuck. He was calling you!
Wait. He was calling you! ‘Pick up, you idiot!’
“Fuck!” you then quickly grabbed your phone and slid to answer, “Hello?”
He chuckled, “I wasn’t going to sleep until I knew you were home safe. Who do you think I am?”
You smiled and bit your nail at the sound of his voice, sitting on the edge of your bed, “You’re right, how silly of me…” you chuckled lightly.
“Late night, huh?” he said after a moment of the two of you chuckling together.
“Yeah, the floral preparations for tomorrow came in wrong, and we had to improv a few things.” You let out a soft sigh.
He hummed and tsked, “You got it under control, though; they’re lucky to have you.”
You smiled at that like no other; not many people praised you for your work. No one has ever now that you think about it.
Damn, you can’t remember the last time someone had said they were proud of you, that they admired your work, that you did a good job.
‘Shit, put that trauma away… save that for another time.’ You hummed and bit your lip softly. “Yeah, I got it under control.”
There was a small silence before he spoke, “What time do you have to be up?”
You turned to look at the clock on the nightstand and groaned. You needed to be up in less than five hours.
“Ugh, don’t remind me of when I have to be up…” you whined.
He chuckled. “Not a morning person?”
You chuckled lightly. “Not in the slightest.”
He chuckled, “I can’t say I’m not a morning person. I do like to sleep in with the right circumstances.”
You slowed down your chuckle and hummed, “I like moments when that happens, too.”
He hummed back, and there was another moment of silence.
You softly sighed, “I hate to cut this short, but I should get to bed…”
He hummed again. “I understand. I’ll try callin’ tomorrow.”
You smiled and nodded to yourself, “Ok. I look forward to it.”
He smiled and softly chuckled, “Before we end this though, I do have one more question..."
"Ok shoot." you softly said.
"When will I get to see you again, querida?”
You blushed and laid back, holding the phone against your ear, letting some silence build up. “Surprise me again?”
You couldn’t see it, but he now smiled like an idiot.
He nodded to himself and hummed softly, “That’s all I needed to hear…” he chuckled again, “Goodnight then, hermosa, sweet dreams.”
You blushed more and smiled, sitting back up. “Good night…”
You waited a moment before you ended the call and squealed as you fell back and kicked your feet, giggling at the butterfly festival happening in your stomach.
2 days later
The wedding that you were hosting was happening today. After the last 48 hours from absolute hell, the most beautiful and essential day was happening.
The mayor had many friends and family staying at the hotel, all of whom had very particular tastes and preferences. This had you and your staff pretty much on call. In the years working as a hotel manager, you’d never been bused around like this. In a way, it felt degrading and had you and your staff feeling disrespected at times.
You were in the dining hall helping the wedding coordinator with a few final details when the bride's mother came over and touched your shoulder softly. “Excuse me?”
You were helping straighten out a few lighting fixtures when you smiled and turned around. “Oh, Mrs. Redmond, you look beautiful!” you smiled softly. "This color suits you elegantly!” You touched her arm gently.
She smiled and blushed at your compliment. She was one of the nicer ones who had attended this event. The bride's family wasn’t as snooty and had their heads more out of the clouds regarding expectations. She and her husband were also very polite and friendly to you with every interaction. She was pretty much your saving grace this whole time if you were being honest.
“I just wanted to come over before it gets crazy for you. Thank you for all you and your staff have done for my daughter. We left a gift basket for you all at the reception desk with Sophia.” She smiled as she spoke.
You tsked and hugged her softly, “You are so sweet, thank you so much!”
She softly chuckled and hugged you back, “It’s nothing big, just something to say thank you…”
You pulled back and smiled, “Thank you so much…”
Your vision moved to focus over her shoulder when you saw Harry smiling at you from a distance. He was holding a takeaway bag and another bouquet, this time of tulips.
Your smile brightened, and you chuckled softly. “Um, will you excuse me?” You looked back at her.
She looked behind herself and smiled, seeing him and what he had, “Oh, aren’t you a lucky one?”
You looked at Harry and then her, smiling and blushing, “I am, aren’t I?”
She smiled at you. “How long have you two…”
You chuckled and looked down shyly. “We, uh, he’s just trying to court me…” You looked up at him for a moment, and he waved at you, to which you smiled and waved back.
She leaned over and chuckled, “This is only him when he’s trying to court you?” she tsked. “I can’t imagine what he’d be like when you’re together.” She nudged you and looked up, “Take it from me, he’s a keeper.”
You blushed and looked at her. “I think so too…” You smiled and touched her arm. “I’ll find you later, okay?”
She nodded and smiled, then looked at Harry and nodded at him. He winked and smiled at her as you started walking towards him, his gaze focusing back to you.
You got closer and began blushing the closer you got. “Is this my next surprise then?”
He chuckled and approached you, leaning in and kissing your cheek confidently. “Mmm, it’s one of many I’ve got in store…” he smiled down at you. "Do you have 5 minutes? I know things are busy, but I brought you some lunch—assuming you maybe didn’t have time today and wanted to make sure you ate.” He softly tucked a loose strand behind your ear, almost like it was involuntary.
His hand flexed as he put it back down at his side, cursing himself for possible unwanted contact. He was trying to be so careful, treading lightly so that those walls didn’t go back up again on him.
You blushed and smiled at him. “I can spare five minutes…” You looked down at the bouquet. “Tulips this time?” You gently took them, grazing his hand with yours, bringing them up to your nose, and taking a breath.
His face softened, and he smiled wider, “Thought I’d bring you every type of flower until we find your favorite…”
You looked up at him through your eyelashes and smiled brightly, then moved them and held out your hand, “Let’s go into my office, we can eat there…”
He took your hand and nodded. “Lead the way then, linda.” (Beautiful/Pretty)
Once you entered your office, you shut the door behind you and turned around to find him looking at your pictures and knickknacks.
He picked you a little crystal giraffe, smiling. “Favorite animal?” he looked back at you.
You shyly tucked your hair behind your ear and nodded. “Yeah, that’s from when Ben and Lila went to Africa last summer.”
He nodded and put it back down, picking up a picture frame of you and a little girl, smiling softly.
You stepped forward and softly cleared your throat. “That’s my goddaughter, Rosie.”
He turned around and looked at you as you sat in one of your chairs, his features softening. “How old is she?” he set the frame down and walked over to sit by you.
“She’s three now and had a birthday a few weeks ago.” You smiled and looked down at the hem of your skirt. “She’s a hoot.”
He sat down and chuckled, pulling out the sandwiches he had brought. “How so?” He handed one to you.
“She’s in a phase right now, obsessed with dinosaurs. She wants to go to the Smithsonian, you know? See that big T. rex skeleton…” you took a bite and covered your mouth, swallowing after chewing for a moment, “Her mom won’t let her go until she’s potty trained though…” you let out a genuine small laugh, “However, she’s one of those kids that’s terrified of the automatic toilets and they are out a lot and when she needs to go potty… the scary potty is the only one available and she refuses.”
He took a few bites of his sandwich while you talked and chuckled at the end of what you said, shaking his head. “My nephew had the same fear. Those automatic toilets are a parent's worst nightmare!”
You chuckled and nodded. “You have a nephew? How old is he now? How did he conquer the automatic toilets?” You took another bite, smiling at him.
He chuckled and looked down at the rest of his sandwich. “Yeah, I don’t think he ever really got over it. He’s still nervous about public restrooms, but my sister rewarded him whenever he was brave and just went into the stall or by it.” He took a bite and chewed before swallowing and looking back at you. “It was similar to how you teach a dog that the bath is okay,” he chuckled.
You snapped and pointed to him, giggling, “Positive reinforcement! Why didn’t I think of that?”
He chuckled more and nodded, “Yeah, he was a sticker kid, so he got a sticker whenever he went into a stall or sat down. He built it up, and with patience and whoever took him in, covering the sensor, he got potty training down.”
You nodded and hummed, “I’ll have to call her mom later and let her know the magical formula…” You took another bite and covered your mouth. “Is he your only nephew?”
He shook his head. “I’ve got three nieces and two nephews.” He smiled softly before taking another bite and chuckling to himself as he chewed and swallowed. "My younger sister has a boy and girl—Anthony and Esmerelda—and my brother has the other two girls and a boy, Lindee, Savannah, and little Harry.”
Your face brightened. “Little Harry? As in he’s named after you?” you softly giggled.
He smiled and nodded, “My brother and I are close. Technically, his little boy's name is Remi, but he likes to go by Harry. He wants to be like his uncle…” He looked down shyly.
You smiled and finished your sandwich as he spoke, “Remi is a cute name, but I agree with him; Harry is much better.” You winked.
He opened his mouth to say something when there was a knock at the door.
“Come in?” You stood up and wiped your mouth with a napkin.
Sophia popped her head in and smiled seeing Harry there, “Good to see you again, Mr. Castillo!”
Harry looked behind his shoulder and smiled, “How are you today, Sophia?”
“I’m well, thanks… How are you?” she nodded towards him.
He smiled at her, then looked at you before looking back at her. “I’m doing better now, thanks.”
“I’m glad to hear that. Are you…” You cut her off by clearing your throat softly.
She looked at you and chuckled softly, “Sorry, uhm. The groom's mom and the mayor are looking for you. They need another ‘special request’…” She rolled her eyes.
You sighed softly and tsked, “Alright. Thank you for coming to get me. I’ll be out in a few moments, Soph…” You nodded for her to leave.
She nodded and smiled at Harry, “Good to see you again, sir. Have a good rest of your day.”
Harry smiled and nodded at her, “You as well, good luck today.” he winked and chuckled.
She closed the door, and you looked down at him. “Sorry, but I should get going. Please feel free to stay here until you’re finished-- have some peace and quiet,” you softly chuckled.
He set his sandwich down on the table and stood, wiping his mouth with the napkin before putting his hands in his pockets. “I, uh, I was wondering what plans you have next week, you know, just for ‘surprise’ purposes.” He slowly walked up and looked down at you, eyes scanning your features.
You smiled up at him and pursed your lips together, trying to downplay how large your smile wanted to be, how he was once again making you feel everything all at once.
“Things should start to slow down on Tuesday; after that, I can be more flexible.” You tilted your head a fraction at him, watching his eyes follow you.
He sighed softly, nodded, and hummed softly, “Tuesday… I can wait that long…” He looked down at your lips and then back up at your eyes.
“Wait for what?” you giggled softly as you felt vulnerable and exposed in the way he was looking at you.
He took his hand out of his pocket and gently tucked the pesky strand that kept coming out from your ear, humming softly, “That’s part of the surprise now, querida…” His fingers lingered, and he gently caressed your cheek, causing your eyes to close, and you leaned into his touch.
He swallowed and felt his heart pound against his ribs. There was an indescribable warmth in his chest from how you leaned into him— the close contact you two constantly found yourselves in.
You heard your name being called from behind the door.
Your eyes slowly open, and you realize what has happened. You chuckled nervously. Your instincts caused you to step back. Your cheeks immediately turn red, and your throat immediately dries up. “I uh…”
He chuckled, seeing you flustered. “Yes?” he tilted his head, putting his hand back in his pocket.
"Tha-" Your voice cracked, causing you to swallow and let out a shaky breath. “Thank you for the sandwich, flowers, and surprise…” You kept your gaze shyly on the ground. “I uh, I’ll call you later?” you ran into the chair and stumbled, “Shit…”
Harry chuckled a little louder, “Yes. Call me later, and uh… you’re welcome. Expect it to keep coming.” he tried to find your gaze.
You put your hand on the door handle and opened it, looking at him once more and then softly giggled, suddenly feeling very shy. “Ok… I uh… I’ll talk to you later then…”
He nodded and looked at you; he could tell you were ruffled by what had almost happened and he was basking in it. He could also tell that the wall was nearly knocked entirely down. “I look forward to it.”
You frantically nodded and hummed, then nodded towards the doorway, “I, uh, okay. I need to go. See you.” You hurried out and shut the door behind you.
You shut your eyes and whispered, your face bright red, “What the fuck was that!?” you shook your head and pinched the bridge of your nose, embarrassed how you got flustered by the simple act of him touching your cheek.
You take a deep breath and let it out. Your heart rate was racing. You couldn’t help but smile. “Shit…” you shook your head and chuckled.
You cleared your throat and straightened yourself up, going to find the groom's parents as you heard them say your name again.
The reception was underway when you and Sophia were at the front desk making Uber arrangements for tomorrow’s group heading to the airport.
Someone approached the desk and cleared their throat softly, taking you and Sophia out of your focus. You looked up and smiled, “Rebecca…” you stood up, “How can I help?”
She nodded behind her. “Sorry to bother you. Do you mind if we had a word?”
You raised an eyebrow, and your smile slightly faulted. “Oh. yeah…” You turned to Sophia for a moment. “I’ll be right back.” You came around the counter and walked with her over to the other side of the reception area.
You held your hands in front of yourself and smiled tightly. “How can I help?” you tilted your head curiously.
She smiled tightly as well. “I uhm, I don’t mean to overstep or anything. But I just feel like, girl to girl, I should say something, you know?”
You furrowed your brow and chuckled lightly. “I’m sorry, I’m not sure what you mean.”
She took a breath and looked down briefly before looking back up. “I saw earlier you were with Harry Castillo. He’s your boyfriend, right?” she guessed.
You tilted your head back to being straight and cleared your throat, “Uhm, yeah, Harry was here earlier.”
She nodded and tsked, looking down and muttering something you couldn’t hear under her breath.
“I’m sorry, what was that?” you said softly.
She looked back up at you and sighed softly, “Sorry I, um, ok. I’m just going to say it. Be careful with him.”
You purse your lips and squint a little, chuckling nervously, “I’m going to need a little more context than that.”
She nodded and took a dramatic breath in. “I don’t know if you know, but… we dated a few years ago.”
You nodded, but your gut suddenly dropped. You didn’t know how things ended or why they did, but the way he acted when she came up the other day, you knew it didn’t end on a good note. “Yes, I know. It’s come up in conversation.”
She looked surprised momentarily, then shook her head slightly and let out another dramatic breath. “I just want to warn you, is all. Take what you want with it, but… I saw what was happening, and let me just say it’s not like that after an amount of time passes.” She tilted her head and tutted. “The fairytale magic Harry tends to sprinkle in the beginning of the relationship, well, it stops.” She clasped her hands together.
You nodded and shrugged, “Well, I suppose that’s how most relationships are. There's the honeymoon phase, then you get comfortable, and then every day is a fairytale, so it doesn’t seem that way anymore when you’re with the right person, right?”
She scoffed at your logic, “Not exactly. At least not with him.” She rolled her eyes a bit, acting annoyed.
“Again— context?” you said a little short. A part of you was bothered; she was sticking her nose in your business— your personal business.
Who was she to take you aside and ‘inform’ you of what Harry might be like? A person can change over a few years. Hell, she could have just been the wrong person, and the right one could come along and change the outcome.
You could be that right person. Right?
“Well, he’s all in when things start up. He was big on ‘surprises’ and spoiling me with gifts and flowers— experiences too…” she sighed softly. “Then he will start to pull back, make excuses that work was late or that there’s a business meeting overseas, basically start to ghost you slowly.” She folded her arms over her chest and bit the inside of her cheek as she looked at you.
You hummed, “Do you mind me asking how the two of you ended?”
“You don’t know?” She let a small grin slip before correcting it by biting her bottom lip.
You saw and raised your eyebrow, taking the challenge. “I do, I just feel it’s fair to know both sides of the story, you know?” you lied but damn did it do the trick.
The stench of her arrogance disappeared the moment that came out of your mouth. The power of the conversation lands back to you.
She nodded, tried to play it cool, and cleared her throat. “Well, I’m not sure what he’s told you, but for the record, I broke up with him,” she tutted arrogantly.
You tutted back, “Yeah, that’s what he said.”
She hummed and pursed her lips, looking bothered by that.
You shrugged. “Well, thank you for the heads-up, Rebecca. I’ll be sure to take it into consideration.” He smiled tightly and nodded towards the reception, “But if you will excuse me, I have some tasks to complete for tomorrow’s travel accommodations.”
She took a deep breath through her nose and touched your arm, acting nice. "Just be careful. I wouldn’t want someone as kind as you to get your heart hurt.” She lifted her eyebrows up and then returned to the reception hall.
You scoffed and shook your head as she walked away, muttering to yourself, “Nosey bitch…”
You didn’t want her to get under your skin, but lo and behold– she did.
You couldn’t stop thinking about what she said the rest of the night. Your past anxiety about him being like every other relationship and guy slowly crept back into your brain.
As the night went on you started to analyzed every piece, moment, and interaction you two have had over the last week. You began to pick it apart to the bone.
By the time you got home, it was late—later than it was the other night—so you excused that it was too late to call or text him. You convinced yourself he’d be asleep at this hour.
You got straight into bed and pulled the sheets over your head. You shut your eyes to sleep, to melt into your bed, to sleep this feeling away-- but your brain continued to run laps.
You sighed and rolled over on your back, shoving the covers off yourself, whispering, “Fuck…” you slammed your fists against the covers, frustrated.
You looked at the clock; it was 1 a.m. You sighed and picked up your phone off of the nightstand, seeing the notifications.
About an hour ago, Harry sent three missed texts and a missed call. Your stomach sank, and you slid your phone open to type something, but then you talked yourself out of it.
It was all too much.
You sat up in bed, pulling the blankets into your lap, and dialed your sister's number. She’d know what to do or at least talk you through this madness.
Her sleepy voice picked up a few rings later, “Hello?”
You sighed and felt tears edge your eyeline as soon as you heard her voice: “Code red…”
She cleared her throat and sounded more alert, “Shit. Ok, I’m on my way.” then hung up the phone.
Within 10 minutes, she was there.
“I just got back yesterday. What the hell happened since I’ve been gone?” she asked as she entered the bedroom, concern written all over her face.
You sighed heavily and looked at her. “I’m going to tell you something, and you have to promise not to freak out or judge or be… all….” You waved your hands at her. “Lila-ish about it, okay?”
She laughed softly and came into your bed, pulling the covers onto herself, “Spill your guts.”
You looked down at your phone for a second and then at her and bit your bottom lip before spewing out, “Harry and I have been flirting ever since your wedding, and at your reception, we danced and at one point he asked me out… and then when Damon pretty much made me cry, I ran out to the vineyard and he followed me. Not in a creepy stalker way, like in sweet, charming way… but he followed me out, and comforted me, and then we ended up dancing by the fountain... and there was a moment, a small moment where I think he wanted to kiss me and I for sure wanted to kiss him... but it was gone as fast as it came because mom interrupted when she texted me about your lights!" you tsked and looked at her, "And then there was another moment when were cleaning up together after you went home in the kitchen and Billy saw it and we just… fuck!" You started to hysterically chuckle, looking at your phone which still had his name on the notifications you saw when you woke the screen. "We had a coffee date the other day and have been texting back and forth and calling here and there and he surprised me with flowers and lunch today but then there was another moment there at the coffee shop and then another when I went to leave after he brought lunch.... and fuck, Lila fuck! I like him… I like him a lot but his damn ex got under my skin today and I’m freaking out because what if he doesn’t like me and this is all in my head an–”
She cut you off, “Woah, woah, slow down!” She waved her hands to silence you. “You and Harry?”
You paused and looked at her, slowly nodding.
She smiled, “You and Ben’s Harry? Ben’s best man, Harry?”
You nodded again and let out a chuckle, “Yes, Lila, yes! Your Harry!”
She gasped and held her breath for a moment. “Please, please, can I have just a small, tiny moment to freak out, please?! " She rambled off quickly.
You sighed and then covered your ears. “Go on…”
She squealed and giggled, getting up and jumping a few times, “Oh my god! Oh my god! You and Harry! Harry and you!” She punched the air a few times and then slammed the pillow against the bed a few times, clearly excited.
You smiled and chuckled, keeping your hands on your ears. “You get it all out?”
She jumped back on the bed and sat under the covers, moving her hair out of her face. Then, taking a deep breath and holding her hands in her lap. She presented herself as calm and cool. “Ok, I’m good.”
You chuckled and removed your hands, then looked at her. “Lila… what do I do?” You raised your eyebrow. “I am so scared…”
She smiled. “You really like him?”
You nodded and pursed your lips together. “He makes me feel so much better about myself. He’s done more in the few times I’ve seen him than anyone, and I mean anyone, has done! Lila, he showed up to my work with an arrangement of at least 50 roses…”
She furrowed her eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
You chuckled and pulled up your phone's photo album, showing her a picture. “See? Look at this!”
She took your phone and her mouth hung open, “What the hell!? Wait–” she looked up at you. “Did you say something about his ex?”
You sighed and nodded. “She was at the wedding we hosted tonight. She tried to ‘warn’ me, girl to girl…” You rolled your eyes.
Lila chuckled, “Warn you? About what?”
“She said he’d slowly pull away and eventually ghost me. I don’t know, she got under my skin…” You looked down and bit the inside of your cheek, feeling frustrated by the whole thing.
“What’s her name?” she asked.
You looked up. “Rebecca. The mayor's daughter.”
She chuckled and nodded, “Yeah, I know who you’re talkin’ about! That bitch…” she scoffed. You perked up. “What do you mean? How? How is she a bitch?”
She tsked and moved to better tell you the knitty-gritty details, spilling it all for you.
“So you’re telling me he didn’t ghost her? She ghosted him after he realized she was a gold digger and slowly cut down on spending money on her?” You asked, trying to connect all the details she just told you.
She nodded her head slowly. “Yep. And then she dared to show up to his company’s Christmas party with some other dude! Pretty much breaking Harry’s heart as everyone at the party knew they were together. So when she showed up with someone else, it was humiliating for Harry.” she said sadly then rolled her eyes, looking back down at your phone, seeing the flowers, “She’s something else… don’t trust anything she told you,” she scoffed. “She probably saw you with him and got jealous.” She looked up at you and raised her eyebrow.
A wave of relief washed over you and you started to chuckle, “Fuck…” you pinched the bridge of your nose and shook your head, “I’m so stupid to take anything an ex said and think any piece of it is true…” you sighed.
“Hey, no…” she put a hand on your arm and sighed, “You are just so used to shitty guys. When a good one comes along, you don’t know how to process it…”
You nodded and rolled your eyes and fell back against your pillows. “I just… I’m so nervous that I’m the only one feeling something or that everything is too good to be tru–”
Your phone started ringing, cutting you off.
Lila picked it up and gasped, “Shut the fuck up!” she held it up to you, showing you it was Harry.
You sat up and grabbed your phone, “Fuck! Fuck… what do I do!?”
She giggled and started softly hitting your legs, “Answer it! Answer it!!”
“I can’t! I didn’t call him, and he pro–” she held her hand to your lips.
“Stop it.” She narrowed her eyes. “Now, get it together. You’re going to put on a sleepy voice and act like you fell asleep as soon as you got home and play it that way.” She nodded. “Yes?”
You nodded with her hand on your mouth, muffling back, “Yes.”
She smiled, took her hand away, and nodded, waving at you quickly. “Hurry, answer!”
You let out a breath and nodded, sliding it to answer. You cleared your throat, putting on a sleepy voice, “Hello?”
“Shoot, did I wake you?” he said sadly.
You looked over at the time, it was almost 2 am.
“No, it’s okay. I must’ve fallen asleep when I got home. I meant to call you… I’m sorry.” You looked at Lila, shrugging, hoping it was doing the trick.
She gave you a thumbs up and nodded encouragingly, smiling.
“There is no need to apologize. I was just concerned you hadn’t made it home yet. I wanted to make sure you got in safe, is all.”
You mouthed to her, covering the receiver, ‘He wanted to make sure I got home safe…’ you put out your bottom lip like you were crying.
She put her hand over her heart and sighed happily. This is all she wanted for you.
“You there, querida?” he asked softly after you didn’t answer.
You cleared your voice and hummed like you’d fallen asleep. “Yeah, I’m here.” You smiled. “You’re sweet to want to make sure I get home safely. Have you been up this whole time?”
You could hear his smile on his face by his voice as he said, “Of course! I didn’t want to miss our call…” he chuckled softly.
You blushed and bit your nail, smiling widely at Lila. She waved at you to keep talking, which you swatted towards her before softly asking, curled up against the wall, “What have you been doing? It’s close to 2 a.m…” you fake yawned.
“Well, up until midnight, I watched the sports highlights and news, and then the last couple hours I got desperate and have been playing this game on my phone…” he said shyly.
You chuckled sleepily. “Oh? What game?”
There was a moment of silence, then he shamefully said, “I don’t wanna say…” and chuckled a little more.
You chuckled a little louder at his admission. “We’ve all been there. Come on! Sharing is caring…”
He laughed softly. “Promise not to laugh?”
“I can’t make those promises in this context, handsome. Come on, let’s hear it.” You giggled softly.
He couldn’t help but smile at you calling him handsome.
You were always so careful with your words. He could tell there were times when you held back. There were small moments where he felt that invisible pull of your thoughts or bite of your tongue. It was like you wanted to say or do something, but your body wouldn’t let you. He knew it was something like anxiety or perhaps habit – but that was gone. That wall is broken down now.
Lila noticed too. However, instead of calling you out and possibly embarrassing you to backpedal, she kept quiet and just smiled, seeing you this open with him.
“Alright, alright…” he let out a soft chuckle, then cleared his throat and paused before inaudibly mumbling, “Candy Crush…”
You giggled softly. “I’m sorry, I missed that. What did you say?”
You heard his hand slap his face, and then he sighed a chuckle before he took a breath and groaned, “Candy Crush…”
A small squeak came out as you tried not to laugh. “Sorry, give me a moment…” You softly cleared your throat and breathed deeply, holding in your laugh.
He could tell what you were doing and was smiling the whole time. He couldn’t begin to imagine how cute you looked doing it. “You good?”
A high-pitched, “Yeah, yeah…” You cleared your throat again and nodded, lowering the tone of your voice back down. “Yeah, I’m fine! So, Candy Crush? What level are you on?” you held in a laugh.
He chuckled and smiled at your attempt not to laugh. “I think somewhere in the 300s…” he slowed down his chuckle,
You thought you misheard him, so you reclarified, “Did I hear that right? 300’s?”
He hummed and yawned, “Yeah, I think somewhere near 370 to be more exact…” he said nonchalantly.
You snorted then chuckled, “Harry, how– 370 in just a couple of hours? How? Its taken me like years to get close to 300…”
He chuckled softly, sounding sleepy, “I’m good at puzzles, always enjoyed ‘em…”
You could hear the exhaustion in his voice. He’d waited up all night, and now that he knows you're safe, he’s finally able to relax enough to fall asleep. You hummed softly. “Puzzles? I’ll remember that…”
He hummed and mumbled something as he dozed off.
You yawned yourself and smiled, whispering, “Get some sleep handsome. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” You paused, “Goodnight…”
He hummed, and then you could hear a soft snore, which made your smile grow even bigger. You let out a soft chuckle before you hung up the phone.
You tossed it onto the bed and couldn’t help the smile and blush plastered on your face.
You looked to Lila who was sitting there with a shit eating grin on her face.
You pointed at her. “Shush! I know I’m red!”
She slowly started to giggle and tackled you into a hug. “You’re so into him!” she squealed.
You couldn’t help but laugh and nod because she was right. You were 100% undeniably into Harry Castillo.
Chapter 3
Summary:
After you take lunch to his work, Harry asks you to be his date to his work masquerade party. However, he takes you shopping for the event beforehand, showing you how important you are and how serious he is about being with you.
Chapter Text
You were called into the office early the next morning, another hiccup.
After everything calmed down and everyone from the wedding party had left for the airport or checked out, you had the rest of the day to yourself.
After talking with Lila last night, and how well the conversation went with Harry, you wanted to return the favor to him.
You ran to a classic sandwich shop down the street from the hotel, then took a cab to the address Lila provided you for where Harry worked.
You got out of the taxi, and a tall building stood in front of you.
You'd lived in New York most of your life and the skyscrapers in the city weren't anything new, but they still overwhelmed you when you got this close.
You looked up and estimated it had over 100 floors, easily.
You took a deep breath as a wave of anxiety washed over you. Your heart started to pound — you felt like you were going to be sick. Something inside of you was trying to pull you back and away– put the walls back up.
You shook your head and swallowed it all down, you weren't going to let it control you anymore. Not when you had a chance at being happy.
With that you put one foot in front of the other and made your way inside.
Lila told you to go to the elevators and go to the 64th floor, so that’s what you did.
The bellboy smiled at you as you entered. “I’ve not seen you here before…” he said, looking down at the bag you were holding. “Bringing someone lunch?”
You nodded and looked down at the bag, smiling softly.
“64th floor is all those investors… your friend rich?” he asked, trying to make small talk.
You chuckled as you tilted your head upward, watching the numbers slowly rise. “He does well for himself…”
He scoffed and turned to look at the doors, back to assuming his position, “That’s just a nice way of saying he’s loaded,” he teased.
You shrugged, letting out a small chuckle, then looked at the doors as you approached the 64th floor. “I guess it is...”
The bell dinged, and the doors opened.
You looked over at him and nodded politely, “Thank you.” Then you stepped out and began walking down the hallway toward the large glass doors with the company logo on it.
The moment you stepped inside, the air shifted.
It was colder than you expected — not in temperature, but in tone. Sleek, polished, professional. The kind of place where every inch had been carefully curated to project power without ever needing to say it aloud.
You swallowed at the scale; the complete change of environment from where you worked was overwhelming.
Floor-to-ceiling windows stretched along one wall, letting in the hard, clear light of the city. Every desk gleamed like it had been buffed ten minutes ago. Dark wood, glass, leather chairs—everything was uniform, clean cut.
The soft hum of voices and muted clicks of keyboards filled the air — no shouting, no chaos — just the efficient, almost clinical buzz of money moving from one place to another.
Men and women in sharp suits moved through the space with purpose, their watches catching the light, their gazes focused and far too busy to notice you lingering near the front.
Behind a massive desk, a receptionist with a headset gave you a tight, polite smile. Her nails tapped against the keyboard like she was marking time until the next meeting.
You noticed the voice coming from the other side of the desk and immediately felt relieved at the first sign of someone interacting with you instead of ignoring you. "Delivery?"
You came over and shook your head shyly, “I’m uh, not delivering, I'm actually here to have lunch with a uhm, someone who works here? Harry Castillo?” you looked at her with an eyebrow raised, hoping you were in the right place.
She smiled brightly, “Oh, Mr. Castillo! Let me page his assistant!” She touched a button on the desk phone.
“No!” you shouted, making her jump. “Sorry, no… I uh, I’m surprising him,” you chuckled nervously.
“Oh!” she softly giggled, nodding. “Let me take you to where his office is. You can wait for him in there,” she smiled softly and stood to walk around the reception desk, “He’s just in a meeting for maybe another 15 minutes or so…”
You nodded and smiled politely as you trailed closely behind her.
She started to walk through the office, smiling and nodding at a few people here and there. You looked around and got a sense of what Harry might do for work, picking up on small details.
You heard your name being called from across the office floor and turned to follow where the call was coming from.
Ben smiled and waved to you. “What the heck are you doing here?” he said as he started to come over to you.
You smiled and chuckled lightly, holding up the bag you had in your hand, “I was going to surprise Harry with lunch…” You nodded towards the receptionist, who stopped walking as you did.
Ben waved her off, “I’ll take her the rest of the way, Lucy, thank you for helping,” he smiled.
She nodded and walked back to her desk, leaving you and Ben alone.
“So... you and Harry?” he grinned and offered his arm for you to hold while you two continued to walk.
You chuckled as you took it, “Nothin’ is… we uhm, we aren’t exclusive.” You shyly scrambled over your response.
Ben huffed out a small chuckle, “Not exclusive? He’s head over heels for you! And I think, based on how Lila came home last night, gossiping about your little phone call– you are feeling the same way,” he teased.
You rolled your eyes and nudged him playfully.
There was a small pause before you spoke again, “I’m not sure how to feel. We haven’t gone out on an official date yet. Just flirting, you know... getting to know each other…” You glanced up at him.
“Ah, I see…” he nodded, softly tutting. He then opened a door that had Harry’s name on a placard by it. “Can I offer some advice then?”
You stepped in and let go of his arm. “Advice for me or him?” you joked.
He chuckled at your jab but then sighed softly and smiled somewhat sadly, “I’ve known Harry for a long time. He’s been hurt just as much as you have.” He looked down for a moment and then back up at you. “He’s someone who puts everything into someone…” he nodded towards his desk, “If you can… find a way to reciprocate it? Give each other a chance. Let him take care of you, but also... take care of him…”
Your eyes scanned over his desk. Of all the other desks you saw, Harry's had a warmth to it. There were framed photos and even a small Lego Batman figure you assumed was from one of his nephews or nieces. A flashback from the wedding make you chuckle as you thought about the joke you two had walking down the aisle.
You then looked back at Ben, understanding what he meant. “I’ll do my best,” you smiled softly.
He nodded and gently patted the door frame. “I know you will,”
You both heard his name being called from another part of the office. He cleared his throat and sighed. “I’m being summoned,” he said, chuckling.
You nodded and came over, gently kissing his cheek, “It’s good to see you. I’ll come say goodbye before I leave.”
He nodded and returned the gentle kiss on your cheek, “You better…”
You chuckled softly and nodded, then walked back to sit in a chair that sat in front of Harry’s desk before he closed the door and left.
Harry’s POV
He had been in this meeting for almost an hour now, and Kent’s monotone voice was almost lulling him to sleep.
Slide 28 of 35.
‘God help us all.’ he thought as he looked at his watch to see the time, eager to get on with his day.
He leaned back in his chair, eyes drifting back to the slideshow in front of him and the rest of the executives as they attentively watched.
Another chart. Another bullet point. Another pointless deep dive into data he’d already skimmed three days ago, processed, and moved on from.
He glanced at his phone, barely visible in his lap under the glass table. He’d been itching to give you a call back since this morning. Especially after last night's phone call was cut short by his own fatigue.
He sat there and wondered what you were doing right now. God, how he wanted nothing more than to spend 20 minutes in your presence.
Ever since the wedding, it seemed like the two of you couldn’t catch a break. You both are constantly being pulled away from each other. The mere thought of having a whole evening with you, dinner or something, where the two of you can just be… it was all he could think about.
“…and now we’ll open it up for thoughts on how we might approach portfolio diversification in Q3,” Kent’s voice at the end of the table cut through his thoughts. “Harry, any thoughts?”
He looked up sharply, blinking once as the room’s attention shifted toward him.
He softly cleared his throat, put his phone into his pocket, and straightened his tie. He leaned forward just enough to appear engaged, not like he had mentally disconnected from the meeting 10 slides ago.
“Well,” he began smoothly, “given the volatility we’ve seen in international equities and the Fed’s latest posture, I’d say it’s less about diversification and more abou–” he stopped.
For a moment, he thought his eyes were playing a sick joke on him as he saw you, smiling, walking through the office. His office.
He blinked to refocus his vision, but you were still there. Arm in arm with Ben, both of you heading towards his office.
His heart stuttered, then picked up speed like it was trying to catch up with what his eyes were seeing. A warmth flooded his chest—not the soft kind, but the kind that made him feel a little dizzy. It made him feel alive.
The only thing he could focus on was you— how the light caught your eyes, how your smile lit up the room.
A small smile cracked through onto his lips.
Another executive cleared his throat, which snapped his attention back to the group.
He cleared his throat and turned a soft shade of red. “Excuse me. As I was saying, uh…” He chuckled softly, feeling a bit nervous from his sudden distraction.
He looked at you once more before turning his attention to the table, “It’s less about diversification and more about precision. Risk-adjusted returns only mean something if you’re holding the right risk.”
He watched as a few heads nodded in agreement. One guy scribbled something down on his pad as if it were gospel. No one questioned it. They rarely did with Harry.
He leaned back in his seat and anxiously tapped his thumb against the file folder in front of him, creating a soft thumping.
He wasn’t eager for this meeting to end due to its boredom now; he was keen for it to end so he could go to you.
He watched your location from the corner of his vision. After a few minutes, Ben left and closed his door, meaning only one thing: you were in his office alone, and he could have you all to himself.
About 10 minutes later, Mr. Clarkson, the CEO, stood up and started gathering his belongings. “Thanks so much for your time today, everyone. As a reminder, Ruby will send you all the formal invitations for our dinner party this Friday, involving Tets Investments closing with us.”
His ears perked to the announcement. He'd completely forgotten about it. 'That's it. I'll ask her to be my date...'
Everyone else stood and collected their bearings, nodding in acknowledgment.
A young man opened the glass door and headed towards Harry.
It was his assistant Peter. He had a tablet and a few folders in his arm along with a wireless headset in his ear. “Ok, so you’ve got a meeting with Angela and Bryan from accounting in about 30 minutes. This is the paperwork you need to look over,” he handed Harry the file folder, exchanging it for the one he had from the meeting.
Harry started walking out of the conference room, buttoning his suit jacket up as he strolled, “I need to reschedule that.” He held the folder for Peter to take back.
Peter scoffed, letting out a bewildered chuckle, “What, why?” He took the folder back and began scrolling through Harry’s calendar on the tablet, trying to see what openings were in their schedules to rebook.
“Something came up. Just make it happen please...” he smiled as he straightened his tie and huffed his breath into his palm to check if it smelled decent.
Peter turned his head to observe everything he was doing, confused for a moment but continued. “Uhm, do you need me to reschedule your 3 pm meeting with Elsie from marketing then?”
“Let’s keep that, but I’ll let you know if that needs to be changed.” He went to reach for the handle, but Peter beat him to it out of habit and opened it.
“Of course. Just let me kn—” he stopped, seeing you in the middle of Harry’s office. “Oh…”
You quickly stood and smiled, putting your hands in front of you shyly, “Surprise…” you beamed.
Harry’s head quickly snapped from looking at Peter to you and smiled brightly, playing along with your surprise, “You’re here…” he chuckled and squeezed through the door that Peter was standing gobsmacked in front of.
He came over and gently touched your hand, leaning down to kiss your cheek.
You held up the bag of food in between you, “I uhm, I brought lunch… do you have some time?” your cheeks turned rosy red as he looked down at you.
Peter cleared his throat softly and grinned sinfully, "I’ll see if Elsie can reschedule for tomorrow. I'll tell her something came up...” he teased.
Harry looked back at him and shook his head, smiled softly at the jab, “This is my assistant, Peter.” he looked back at you.
You smiled and held out your hand as you walked over to him, “Peter, it’s lovely to meet you. I’m Y/N.”
He took your hand and grinned wider, “Wait... Y/N as in Y/N from the wedding?” he looked at Harry, jaw slacked dramatically.
You chuckled and looked back at him, “Have you been talkin’ about me around the office now?” you teased.
Peter smirked, “Oh, he’s not shut up since… he won’t—”
Harry interjected quickly, turning red, “Is that the phone I hear?” he nodded towards Peter’s desk.
There was no phone ringing.
You bit your lip, trying to hide a giggle, and looked down shyly.
Peter cleared his throat softly, getting the memo Harry was trying to send. “It’s lovely to meet you again,” he said, touching your arm gently. “Enjoy your lunch.”
You smiled softly and thanked him before he closed the door softly.
After a moment of silence, Harry softly cleared his throat and looked over at you, “I uhm… I’ve been meanin’ to call you since last night…” He took off his jacket, placing it on the back of the chair where he stood, and started to roll up his sleeves.
You turned around and tucked some loose hairs behind your ears. “I’ve been meaning to do the same.” You walked over slowly, the tension suddenly felt high.
Another small moment of silence.
“I had things end a little earlier than we planned at the hotel, so I thought I’d… you know… return the favor and come surprise you.” You softly smiled at him.
The act of you matching the level of interest he'd been displaying since the wedding was heartwarming to him. He was getting what he put in, put out towards him. It was something he hadn't had in a partner in a very long time. It was all he wanted, someone to match his love language, or at least appreciate it.
He had a sweet and warm smile across his lips as he watched you, “I’ve missed you…”
You looked down into the bag shyly, “I’ve missed you too…” You started pulling the food out and setting it on the table.
Harry watched for a moment from where he was standing and then moved to stand behind you, putting his hand on the small of your back. “Can I help?”
It was just a touch—barely anything. His hand was barely on your back, light as a whisper.
But it hit like a lightning strike.
A wave of warmth flooded your chest, spreading out like someone had turned on a light from the inside.
Your cheeks burned instantly, that unmistakable flush that crept up your neck no matter how hard you had tried to will it away. Your heart skipped a beat, the one that made your mind short-circuit.
Butterflies? More like a full-blown riot in your stomach.
You turned your head to look at him and nodded but then got lost in his gaze momentarily.
He said your name softly, his eyes flickering to your lips.
You inhaled a shaky, nervous breath before blurting out. “N-Napkins…”
His gaze flickered up to your eyes, grinning like he knew what he was doing to you.
“Do you have any napkins?” you grinned sheepishly.
He nodded. “Yeah, they're in my desk…” He walked around to the other side to retrieve them.
You looked down at the food you’d laid out and tried to settle yourself– taking in a small deep breath.
Harry tutted, “So– I may have figured out a first date for us if you’re up for it?” He looked up from his drawer.
You glanced at him and softly chuckled, “Oh? What would that be?”
He came back around his desk with a small pile of napkins, smiling warmly. He sat down on his desk before taking his sandwich, then patting the area beside him for you to sit. “I have a work dinner party on Friday. It’s a masquerade-type thing…” he kept his gaze on the sandwich as he spoke.
You sat down and looked at him as he spoke, unwrapping your sandwich, “Are you asking me to be your date, Mr. Castillo?” you teased, lightly nudging his side with your elbow.
He let out a light chuckle and looked at you, a twinkle in his big brown eyes had become clearer now that you were closer. “I’m askin’ you to be my date, sweetheart…”
You hummed, and your eyes danced across his features, then you looked down at your sandwich. “In that case, I need to go shopping for a mask…” You smiled as you bit your bottom lip.
“Is that a yes?” he kept his gaze on you, his smile slowly grew.
You looked back up at him and your smile became softer, “That’s a yes…”
He looked back at his sandwich and took a bite, saying with his mouth somewhat full, making you giggle, “Good. Then that means I get to take you dress shopping…”
You also took a bite and then paused, covering your mouth with your hand. “Wait, what?” You thought you misheard him.
He chewed and swallowed, turning to look at you. “I’m taking you dress shopping,” he shrugged, smiling to himself as if it were no big deal.
You chortled, now thinking he was joking.
“What’s so funny?” he smiled innocently.
You tilted your head to the side to gauge him out and scooted away from him to see him better, “Harry, you’re kidding, right?”
His smile didn’t waver as he shook his head, “Why would I joke about that?” he snickered softly.
You stuttered, “I just… like you want to go with me when I shop? Help me pick out something?” You set your sandwich down. This now needing your full, undivided attention.
He set his sandwich down as well and turned slightly, finding you amusing, “I want to buy you a dress, accessories, shoes… the mask… anything you might want for the event.” He reached forward and gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “I want to take care of you.”
You looked down shyly at your hand sitting flat on the desk. You didn’t know what to say. You felt like words weren’t computing inside your brain. It was like you were short-circuiting again.
“Will you let me do that?” he asked.
Ben’s words echoed in your head, ‘Let him take care of you.’
You looked up and did the only thing you could. You nodded while a shy smile slipped onto your lips.
“Good.” He leaned forward and softly kissed your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment. It was as if he were savoring the tender contact, the intimate gesture. He pulled away and smiled warmly, “Do you have time to go this evening?”
“Yeah… I’ve got time,” you croaked out, your voice cracking slightly. You cleared your throat and lightly let out a chuckle, for which he joined in.
You readjusted to sit back as you were before and picked up your sandwich.
You sat there for a moment, then scooted closer and leaned your head on his shoulder. “So tell me, how was your meeting?” You took a bite, then slid your hand into his.
He couldn’t help the idiot grin he had on his face but couldn’t give a shit.
He hummed softly, contentedly, and took his sandwich with his free hand and sighed softly, “Long version or short version, hermosa?”
You nuzzled your head in softly, “Long version…”
After you left Harry’s work and went back to yours, he told you that he’d pick you up from the hotel to go shopping around 5 pm.
In true Harry Castillo fashion, he was 10 minutes early, standing outside his car with a new bouquet. This time, it was of peonies.
You clocked out a few minutes early and walked out to find him leaning against the all black SUV, his eyes on the flowers. He was now dressed in a tan button-down and dark-wash jeans.
You smiled at the sight, “Do you ever not look dashing?” you teased.
His eyes snapped up to you and instantly had a smile on his face, “Hey there, beautiful…”
You came up and gently kissed his cheek. “What do we have this time?” you looked down at the flowers, your cheeks pink.
He leaned down and kissed your cheek back, then held up the flowers a little to present them, “Peonies…”
You took them from him gently and took a small sniff, “Ooh, I like the smell of those…” you glanced up at him.
He smiled wider, excited, “Oh? Have we found a favorite?” He had his hand gently on yours, his thumb rubbing the outside of your wrist.
You blushed at the tenderness, “I think we have a contender, but let’s still run through other flowers. You know, just to be sure…” You winked.
He chuckled, “Noted.” He then leaned in and kissed your forehead. “Shall we?”
You nodded and went to get into the front passenger seat out of habit.
Meanwhile, he opened the back door for you and waited for you to notice.
You turned around to him, confused about why you'd be sitting in the backseat. But then you saw there was a driver in the front seat and tutted. “Should have known better,” you giggled and came back, getting in the back seat.
Ted, Harry’s driver, took you both to a shopping plaza in SoHo.
The moment Harry opened your door and you stepped out, you saw places like Chanel, Dior, and Louis Vuitton.
You chuckled and shook your head, backing up towards the car, not knowing how to react. “Harry, we are not shopping at places like this… It’s too expensive… I…” You looked up at the pretty neon signs above the store's doors. “This is…” You scoffed, not able to find the words.
You didn’t feel worth it.
You didn’t feel that him spending this much money on you was something you deserved.
It felt wrong. But there it was again, Ben’s words, ‘Let him take care of you,’ and for Harry, this was his way of doing just that.
He chuckled at your reaction and looked at Ted. “Meet us back here in a few hours.”
Ted nodded and drove off, leaving you looking at Harry with a bewildered smile on your face, to which he just smiled adoringly at you.
“What?” you giggled.
He held out his hand and sighed. “Just trust me?” he said, smiling warmly.
You bit your lip and shook your head, but then sighed playfully, “Alright… fine…” You slid your hand into his.
He led you into the first store, Chanel, where a shopping attendant greeted you both at the door, eager to make a nice commission.
She looked lavish and expensive, dressed head to toe in 'completely out of your budget' attire—even the air she was exhaling made you feel poor. “Welcome in! My name is Genevieve. Is there anything I can help you find?”
You looked up to Harry, unsure of what to do or say. Everything about this seemed like an out-of-body experience to you.
He smiled and looked at her, letting go of your hand, setting his on the small of your back. “Genevieve, we have a masquerade ball this weekend, and she needs a new dress, new shoes… she needs it all,” he grinned.
You smiled shyly at her, “Maybe we can just start with a dress? I have stuff at home, I’m sure I can use…” You looked up at Harry for a moment, then back at her.
You didn’t want to be like every other girl Harry had been with; you didn’t want to feel like a gold digger.
He mouthed to her, ‘Everything’, then winked and grinned.
She chuckled and nodded at him, understanding completely. “Well, that sounds like fun!” She looked at you and said, “Let's start with what colors you have in mind?”
She started to walk through the store, heading towards the dresses, and you both followed close behind.
You looked around, eyes scanning over everything. It was all so immaculate, gleaming, and expensive. You’d never even thought you’d own anything like this, let alone be walking through one of the stores. “Well, I usually go towards darker colors, but I’ve been told I look good in red?” you glanced at her.
She nodded and started skimming through some of the selections, grabbing some options, humming as she did so.
Harry walked to another section with you, pulling out a dark red dress, one with a slit up the thigh, but it was just what you liked or would have picked out yourself. “Thoughts?” He glanced at you.
You nodded and smiled, barely running your fingers over the silky fabric, “I like it.”
Genevieve gasped, coming over, seeing his selection, “Good choice!” She smiled and took it from him, putting it in the small pile she’d gathered over her arm. “Why don’t we try these on? And then we can narrow down what we do and don’t like– and if we need to go from there.”
You nodded and smiled.
“Perfect. If you’d follow me… and then Mr. Castillo, if you’ll take a seat, we’ll get started.” She nodded for you to follow her.
Harry softly rubbed your back, “I’ll just be out here,” then kissed your cheek gently.
You nodded and smiled up at him.
You walked away and followed her into the dressing room, your hands shyly behind your back.
You entered the dressing room and changed into a dark brown dress with a very deep bust and dangerously high slit up the thigh. It felt a little too inappropriate for the party you were attending.
You looked at yourself in the mirror and shook your head, then looked at Genevieve, “I think this is too much…” You looked down at the plunge that opened up your cleavage, blushing at what Harry might think.
“Do you want to go out and show your boyfriend? Just to get a feel for it?” She smiled and tilted her head, “You know, give him a show?” She giggled playfully.
“Oh, um, he’s not my— well not yet… I mean, I hope eventually he– Fuck sorry...” You were stumbling over your words.
She grinned and tilted her head mischievously, “Even more reason to then…”
You chuckled lightly and looked back at yourself in the mirror. You had to admit, you looked good. No. You looked fucking amazing. The dress accentuated your curves, complemented your skin tone, it made you radiant. “Alright…” you looked at her. “What’s the harm?” you smirked and picked up the front to walk out.
She cleared her throat and began walking to the main floor to catch Harry's attention.
Harry was sitting back on the couch, but then immediately straightened up and turned a light shade of red the moment he saw you. He quietly cleared his throat and mumbled under his breath, “Fuck me…”
You stepped onto the platform and turned to look in the mirrors, watching Harry’s reaction from behind you with a slight smirk.
“You’re wearing one of our vintage evening gowns from 1987…” She began straightening some parts as she continued, “This is typically worn with black velvet gloves, which would go quite nicely with your masquerade theme…” She began to adjust the train of the dress to present it.
Harry was speechless. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you, off your body.
His mouth went dry. His mind—usually so sharp, so calculated—was suddenly fogged with one thought, one need, one echo pounding in time with his pulse:
Want.
His pulse thundered in his ears. The slit in the dress climbed like a secret up your thigh, and the way your eyes flicked to him in the mirror—slow, knowing—sent fire curling in his gut.
His thoughts? Completely undone. Replaced by vivid flashes: your back against a wall, lips crashing into his, fingers in his hair, that dress tangled somewhere on the floor.
Genevieve clocked his reaction in the mirror and glanced at you, giving you a knowing wink and a slight smirk.
You turned around and smiled innocently his way, “Thoughts?”
His eyes continued to drink you in, eyes trailing down your body— not hearing a word you said.
You let out a soft giggle, “Harry?”
His gaze snapped up to yours, and he cleared his throat, turning a darker shade of red.
“Sorry, sweetheart, did you say something? I…” he ran his thumb over his bottom lip and looked back down your body, “You look…" he exhaled, "Wow…” he said lowly, sitting forward a bit.
You blushed and turned back to look at yourself in the mirror. “I feel it might be too much for a work party, you know?” You slid your hands down your body to smooth out the dress. Not knowing it was doing something to him, giving him a little show.
He chuckled nervously as he adjusted his hips from the unwelcome bulge starting to form. “I… look, you’re hearin’ no complaints from me…” He swallowed, trying to calm himself down.
You looked back at him and bit your bottom lip, “So, you like this one?”
His eyes snapped back up to yours and he grinned, “Darlin’, you make anythin’ look good… Of course I like it.” he nodded towards the dressing rooms, “But let’s try on some more, get a feel for what you like, not what I like...” he raised his eyebrow, being supportive of you dressing for you, not for him.
Genevieve spoke up, “I like what he said. This is about what you like.” She offered her hand. “Plus, we can always return to this one and see if our minds change…” She looked up at you and smiled politely.
You looked down at Genevieve, taking her hand, stepping off the platform, and smiled back, “I agree…”
She nodded and then led you back to the dressing room, where she had you put on a few more dresses.
You walked out and showed Harry each time, but they didn’t have the same reaction as the first—for you or him.
However, there was one last dress.
It was the one that Harry had found.
And once it was on you, it fit like a glove.
It was everything— elegant, sexy, tasteful, but allowed for slight teasing.
It had a high slit up the thigh and had a somewhat lower cut in the bust. However, it was more tasteful than the first as it highlighted your collarbones and shoulders beautifully.
You couldn’t help but beam when you looked at yourself in the mirror.
You looked radiant.
You walked out to see Harry on his phone texting, but the second he heard Genevieve’s high heels hit the floor, his attention snapped up.
It was like all the air had been sucked out of his lungs the way his breath caught as he saw you.
You bit your bottom lip and blushed at the clear reaction. You knew this one was it with how his eyes drank every inch of you in.
The first was fun—something to wear to a more intimate and casual event. However, this one was tasteful and had the exact same effect on him, leaving him speechless.
You stepped up and looked into the mirrors. You now were able to see how it hugged every curve of you beautifully. Every line— highlighted.
You worked your angles, making sure everything fit perfectly, and then looked at Harry in the mirror, “Thoughts?”
He took a moment to absorb how beautiful you looked.
He was thinking about how much he’d been waiting for so long to feel this way for someone, and now here you are— right in front of him. He wasn’t going to let you go or let you down. As he looked at you in this moment, not only was the dress the one, but so are you.
He smiled adoringly and nodded at you, “I’m going to be the luckiest man at the party with how beautiful you look in that dress, querida…” He leaned forward, giving you his fullest attention.
You blushed and found his eyes in the mirror. You took a deep breath and nodded at him, "Ok, this is the one."
Genevieve giggled, which pulled your focus to her. She clapped her hands together a couple times, “Ah! I love it! This dress was made for you…”
She took a step back and hummed, “However, it’s missing something…” She tapped her fingers on her lips as she began thinking for a few seconds, then she lit up and held up a finger, “I’ve got it! Wait here…” She then disappeared into the store on the hunt.
You looked back over your shoulder and chuckled, “What could possibly be missing?”
Harry looked behind his shoulder to see where she had gone, but couldn’t find her.
He looked back at you, and both of you smiled shyly at each other.
He stood from the couch and made his way over to you. The closer he got, the more his eyes ran over every part of you. You shyly looked back at the mirror and watched his movements.
He hummed before offering his hand for you to step off the platform, “Well… it may not be what she’s thinking… but I do have something in mind that I’ve been thinking might make it better…”
You took his hand and stepped off the platform, slightly confused but intrigued. You looked up at him and smiled softly, “Oh? What would that be?” you teased, feeling shy under his gaze.
He swallowed down his nerves, then found your eyes, “Just my opinion, but…” He slowly reached up and cupped your cheek before leaning in, his voice a hushed whisper lost between the beats of your heart. His thumb brushed gently along your cheekbone, eyes searching yours like he needed to be sure this moment was real.
The world seemed to blur around you—no more noise, no more people, just the closeness between you and him. You could feel the warmth of his breath as the space narrowed, your lips a breath apart.
Your hands—unsure at first—found their way to the fabric of his shirt, fingers curling lightly near his chest. You could feel his heartbeat beneath your palms, quick like yours. One hand slid up almost instinctively, fingertips grazing the side of his neck, drawn to the way he leaned into your touch.
“…this,” he finished, his words trembling on the edge of a kiss.
Your thoughts became rushed—Is this really happening? Can he feel how nervous I am? God, please don’t mess this up. But beneath all that noise was something quieter, something softer: I want this. I want him.
And then he closed the distance.
It was gentle and deliberate, as if he wanted to memorize the shape of your lips. Your eyes fluttered closed, and for a moment, all those thoughts dissolved. There was only the feeling—the warmth, the closeness, the way the world melted away until it was just him.
Your fingers tightened slightly in his shirt as the kiss deepened, just a little, and you tilted your head to meet him more fully. You felt seen. Wanted. Safe.
When he pulled back, barely an inch, his forehead rested against yours. His breath mingled with yours, both of you smiling in the quiet.
Your eyes flutter open, and you let out a soft chuckle, whispering, “I um, I think to add that to the outfit, there’s an added fee…” you joked, gently caressing his jawline with your fingertips, studying his features, memorizing everything about this moment.
His eyes remained closed, forehead still against yours as he chuckled, low and warm in his chest, before he leaned back in and murmured against your lips, “Whatever the price… I’ll pay millions if it means I get to kiss you like that, querida…”
You barely had time to smile before his lips were on yours again—this time slower, deeper, like he had all the time in the world and no intention of rushing any second of it.
His hand slid from your cheek down to your waist, fingers splaying there as he gently pulled you in, closing the last bit of distance between your bodies. The warmth of his touch burned through the thin fabric, and the feeling of his body pressed against yours sent a shiver down your spine.
Your hands moved instinctively, trailing up his chest—feeling the steady beat of his heart — before loosely wrapping around his neck, fingertips threading into his hair. You tilted your head slightly, leaning into him, meeting the kiss with just as much quiet urgency.
It was deep, but not desperate—tender in its intensity. He kissed you like he needed you to feel what he couldn’t quite say out loud yet. Like he wanted you to know this wasn’t just a moment. It was the moment.
Your breaths mingled, uneven now, but neither of you seemed to care. The world outside your embrace didn’t exist anymore—not when his thumb was drawing slow circles against your waist, not when you felt him smile slightly against your lips like kissing you was the best decision he'd ever made.
Genevieve’s voice cut through the haze you two were in, making you both slowly pull away and look at each other, both smiling like idiots.
“I found thi—” she saw what she’d interrupted and shyly chuckled, “Oh, pardon me, umm…” she turned away, attempting to give you both privacy.
Harry lightly chuckled and kissed your forehead. “No, no… pardon me...” He let go of your waist and looked at Genevieve as she turned back around, his lips somewhat red and cheeks rosy. “What did you find for her?” he nodded to her as he went and sat back down.
You let out a slow exhale, and tucked a strand of loose hair behind your ear as she came over and had some jewelry and handbags to show you.
You looked away first, cheeks warming all over again as Genevieve continued talking, holding up a clutch with little gold details. You nodded along, barely catching half of what she said—your heart still somewhere between his hands and that kiss.
You caught him glancing at you again from the corner of your eye.
Not in a way that demanded anything, just… there. Warm, steady, a little breathless—like he was still replaying that kiss in his head the same way you were.
Your lips curved into a shy smile before you could stop it. You no longer tried to hide it. Not when the air still hummed between you. Not when he looked at you like that kiss opened up that part in his heart deep down like it did for you.
He tilted his head just slightly, like he was memorizing the way you looked when you were trying not to smile. Like this was his new favorite view.
Genevieve didn’t seem to notice—or if she did, she was kind enough to pretend. She kept chatting as she turned to the mirror, holding up one of the necklaces to your neckline.
And in the quiet moment that followed, your eyes met his again.
This time, you held the look.
Long enough for it to say everything,
I liked that. I want more. We’re not done.
And when he gave you that barely-there smile again—the one that said I know, me too—your heart skipped, flipped, and practically melted into your chest.
Friday
You managed to get off work around 4 pm, as you were panicking about being ready on time.
Harry told you last night that he’d pick you up at seven. With that being said, that would give you 3 hours to run around your place like a madwoman while Lila chased you around, trying to help put you together.
As expected, he knocked right on time, 7 pm sharp.
Lila was still there unexpectedly, as there was a last-minute makeup snafu.
You whispered hearing the door, “Fuck! You aren’t supposed to be here!”
She quietly giggled and shoved you towards the door.
You turned back and chuckled, pointing behind the couch, “Hide! Quickly!”
She ran and hid behind the couch, peeking around so she could see the front door.
You let out a breath and shook your hands shaking out all the nerves.
You hadn’t seen Harry since that day he took you shopping. Afterwards, both your schedules picked up again– his taking him out of town for the last couple of days.
All the nervousness and tension had been building up from the calls and texts you two shared over the last couple of days. You both were very eager to see each other.
Lila popped out and loudly whispered, “Oh for Christ sake, open the door!”
You turned around and waved her off, shushing her, giggling.
She popped back down, and you opened the door— and there he was.
He looked absolutely devastating in a dark, subtly patterned suit that hugged his frame perfectly, the crisp white of his shirt peeking through just enough to make him seem both dangerous and heartbreakingly polite. His hair was tousled back, like he’d run his hands through it a few too many times in nervous excitement. He had a little smirk across his lips — the one that made his deep-set eyes soften — aimed straight at you.
‘God damn it, how was I supposed to survive tonight when he looks like that?’
He was holding a bouquet that was wrapped in brown paper, tied sweetly with a dark red bow, one to match your dress.
The moment he laid eyes on you, for a second — maybe longer — he forgot how to breathe.
He dragged his eyes back up to yours, trying (and failing) not to look too awestruck. His heart was pounding like he’d just run a mile.
"Wow..." he breathed out, voice a little rougher than he intended. He chuckled low, shaking his head as he stepped closer, the world around him narrowing down to nothing but you.
"You’re... you're going to ruin me tonight, aren’t you?" he smirked.
Before you could even tease him back with a response, he was already moving, drawn in like gravity had decided you were the center of the universe.
He cupped your face gently, and then he kissed you — slow at first, like he wanted to savor the moment, then a little deeper when he felt you lean into him.
It wasn't rushed, wasn't messy — it was the kind of kiss that promised a night neither of you would forget, filled with heat, laughter, and something dangerously close to falling head over heels.
When he finally pulled back, barely an inch, his forehead rested against yours, and he whispered, a little breathless, "You have no idea what you’re doing to me..."
You breathlessly whispered, reaching up to cup his cheek, “I’ve missed you…”
He smiled like he’d never smiled before hearing that. His arm moved down to wrap around your waist and pull you close to him, “God, I’ve missed you too…”
You giggled and leaned back in, forgetting about Lila completely– who was watching from behind the couch with a shit eating grin on her face trying not to make a peep.
This time, you kissed him deeper.
You melted into him, your fingers curling into the fabric of his jacket, needing something to hold onto as the kiss grew hotter, messier — the kind that made time stutter and your heart pound in your ears.
He tilted his head, deepening it even more, a low sound escaping from the back of his throat that made your knees threaten to give out. It wasn’t just desire in the kiss — it was something hungry, something that said he’d been waiting for this without even realizing it.
When you finally broke apart, both of you felt a little dizzy. He kept his forehead pressed to yours, breathing you in like you were oxygen.
"If we don't leave right now..." he murmured, his voice thick with desire, "... I’m not sure we ever will." He gently squeezed your waist, pulling you close to him.
You swallowed and nodded, your eyes staying closed for a moment while you centered yourself.
Your eyes opened, and slowly, reluctantly pulled away from him, blushing, “I uhm, I need to grab my mask and purse.”
You nodded to your living room, “Make yourself at home.”
You went to turn away when he gasped and pulled you back, “Shit, I uhm, I got these for you…” he held up the bouquet between the two of you, smiling down at you.
You leaned down and sniffed them, blushing as he watched.
“Chocolate ranunculus…” he softly said.
“I like them. They match my dress…” You smiled sweetly up at him.
He tutted and tilted his head, biting his lip, “That may have been intentional, hermosa…”
You hummed and took them from him softly, “Well, I’m going to go put these in a vase before we leave… I’ll be quick.” You reached up on your toes and pecked his lips, leaving him smiling like a fool as you disappeared down the hall.
He shoved his hands into his pockets, still feeling the ghost of your lips, and began casually pacing your living room — taking in the framed photos, souvenirs, and small touches that felt undeniably you.
His smile widened when he spotted a photo of you and Lila on your wall at the beach, arms wrapped around each other, laughing mid-splash.
That’s when he heard it — the soft creak of movement behind the couch.
He tilted his head slowly. “You know,” he said, loud enough to be heard but still casual, “if you’re gonna spy on your sister’s love life, Lila, you should at least bring popcorn to enjoy the show.”
Lila popped up like a guilty meerkat, her expression caught somewhere between sheepish and exasperated. “I knew I should’ve hid in the coat closet,” she muttered.
He crossed his arms, grinning smugly. “That would’ve made it so much less suspicious...” He chuckled.
“Don’t look so proud of yourself, okay?” she grumbled. “I wasn’t spying. I was... waiting for my moment to escape when you two left.”
“By hiding behind a piece of furniture like a sitcom character?” he teased.
“You were early!” she snapped, pointing an accusatory finger.
He just laughed. “I was on time!”
Just then, you reappeared, carrying a vase of freshly arranged flowers — and immediately froze.
“Oh my God.” You stared at the two of them, eyes wide. “Lila you didn’t just see—”
“She did,” he said, without missing a beat.
“She didn’t,” Lila cut in at the same time, trying to sidestep around him with her dignity barely intact.
“You did, you saw…” you groaned, half-laughing, half-mortified.
Lila chuckled, feeling your embarrassment, “I’m sorry… but for the record... you guys are adorable... all love sick and needy!” she teased.
You waved a hand at the door. “Just go. Get out. Shoo. Go. Vanish...”
Lila muttered something under her breath that made Harry chuckle, then finally slipped out, leaving the door swinging shut behind her.
He looked at you, still smiling. “You two really are sisters.”
You rolled your eyes, grabbing your clutch and mask. “Oh, stop it...” Your cheeks are still red with embarrassment.
He chuckled lowly. “You’re cute when you’re like this…” he said, offering you his arm. “Ready?”
You looped your arm through his, still grinning as the two of you stepped out into the night — leaving behind the flowers, the laughter, and the sister-shaped chaos.
Ted drove the two of you to the Cipriani 25 Broadway venue.
When the two of you got inside, the hall was packed.
His hand was warm against the small of your back as the heavy doors creaked open before the two of you. For a moment, you both just stood there, the world inside the ballroom spilling out, enchanting you.
The hall was bathed in gold and shadow, candlelight flickering off marble columns — soaring, painted ceilings.
Nearly two hundred masked figures swirled and laughed, their movements weaving an intricate and glowing motion.
You could hear music coming from a hidden quartet, which made the atmosphere feel delicate and rich.
You felt his breath hitch– you glanced up to find him already looking down at you. His dark suit caught the light just right. It was enough to hint at its texture — and the sharp line of his jaw was only partly hidden by the black Venetian mask he wore. He looked deliciously handsome, and you could instantly tell he was the envy of the room — as most of the women’s heads turned towards him.
"You’re breathtaking," he murmured, low enough that only you could hear, his voice rough around the edges. His fingers squeezed gently at your waist to reassure himself that you were real and his.
You smiled behind your delicate, dark red mask and reached for his hand, threading your fingers through his with easy, intimate familiarity. “I feel quite lucky tonight…”
He let out a soft chuckle as the two of you began strolling further inside to find a table. “Why’s that?”
Sharp eyes behind jeweled masks raked over his tall frame, his dark suit cut to perfection, as he strode with quiet confidence.
And then they looked at you. At his hand, which you held. How close the two of you walked. At how his attention — his energy — and how it was wholly yours.
It felt electric. Intoxicating.
You lifted your chin slightly as you moved past them, feeling bold beneath your lace mask. Their stares didn’t shake you once. In fact, you felt emboldened by them. Let them look. Let them wonder who you were, and what you’d done to make him look at you the way he did.
“You seem to have been the goal for all the single ladies tonight, and I’m afraid I may have stepped on some toes... burst some bubbles…” You nodded towards a group of women — their eyes not so subtly watching the two of you, drinking champagne, surely gossiping about who you were and why you’re with him.
Harry looked that way, then he stopped and slowly pulled you close, “Then why don’t we give them somethin’ better to stare and gossip about?” he grinned sinfully.
You barely had time to process the mischievous gleam in his eye before he slid his hand along your jaw, tilting your chin up toward him. The music, the crowd, the glittering spectacle of the ballroom — all of it blurred into nothing the second he leaned in.
His mouth captured yours in a slow, almost teasing kiss. His thumb brushed along your cheek as if he was savoring the moment, deepening it little by little until you felt yourself melting into him.
Gasps rippled through the nearby crowd that you’d just pointed out. You could feel the stares on you like a thousand tiny sparks, but you didn’t care. Not when his arms wrapped fully around you, drawing you so tightly against him that there was no mistaking it — no mistaking the claim he was making by doing this.
The kiss grew deeper, hungrier, his hand sliding down your spine in a way that made you arch instinctively closer. When he finally pulled back — reluctantly, slowly — he stayed close enough that you could still feel the brush of his breath against your mouth.
He grinned, all wickedness and charm.
“Think they got the message?” he murmured, softly nudging his nose against yours.
You barely found your voice. “Loud and clear.”
He chuckled low, stealing one more soft, lingering kiss before slipping his arm firmly around your waist and leading you further into the glittering masquerade, leaving behind a trail of envious stares and whispered speculation in your wake.
And you couldn’t help the smile that curved your lips.
If they weren’t watching before, they sure as hell were now.
The night went on with dinner and the importance of this event was discussed around you — closing the deal with Tets Investments.
When the two of you sat down to eat dinner a few of his coworkers attempted to talk shop. However, he constantly shifted the conversation to topics you could be included in as well as the other plus ones.
You admired how he spoke to others — he was confident but not arrogant. He made everyone feel welcome, included, and supported. It wasn’t a shock that there were so many people who came to say hello. Each time he’d hold you close, introduce you, and keep you involved in whatever was being discussed.
Close to 9 o'clock, the rhythm slowed down, and the two of you stood in the back of the ballroom, sipping champagne, watching those on the dance floor.
Harry stood with his arm around your waist from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder. He whispered little facts or stories about certain people to you he'd pointed out, fully opening up his world — his life to you.
You had never felt so welcomed into someone’s life. Everyone you’d been with in the last couple of years was always so shut off. They always had something to hide. They feared letting you get too close, or maybe you didn’t want to get that close deep down. But, things with Harry felt different. At some points, it's all too good to be true. You’ve thought he deserves better, but there he is, every time those thoughts come up, reassuring he wants nothing — nobody but you.
—
The music shifted at one point—a slow, pulsing waltz began. Without a word, he moved from behind you and tugged gently at your hand, his other settling possessively at your waist. Your breath caught as he pulled you close, chest to chest, the heat of him sinking through the silk of your dress.
"You owe me a dance," he said, voice a low tease against the shell of my ear.
You smiled, tilting your head up toward him. "I don’t remember agreeing to that, handsome."
His mouth curved into a lazy, wicked grin. "You didn’t. I’m cashing it in anyway."
Before you could say another word, he guided you onto the floor, folding you into him so naturally it felt like both of you had danced this way a hundred times before.
He pulled you closer, his hand sliding low on your back as you moved together, bodies swaying in time with the slow, sultry music. The candlelight flickered across his mask, but you could still see the warmth in his brown eyes — the way he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered in the entire room.
He leaned in, his mouth brushing just beside your ear as he whispered, voice rich and teasing, "You know, I think you might just be my favorite view tonight."
Your breath caught, a smile curving your lips as a delicious shiver ran down your spine.
You tilted your head slightly, just enough to meet his gaze — playful, daring.
"Just tonight?" you teased.
He laughed under his breath, the sound low and intimate, and tightened his hold ever so slightly, pulling you even closer.
"Darlin', you've been my favorite view every night since that wedding..."
Your heart skipped wildly in your chest, the world around you fading even further away as you let yourself fall a little deeper into him.
The music slowed down as it wrapped around you both. His fingers tightened gently on yours, and without warning, he spun you out — just a step, just far enough that you caught a few eyes, those still envious of you and their stares aimed at you.
You laughed, the sound light and breathless, and the moment your hand found his again, he pulled you right back in — closer than before.
The smile he wore was adoring and charming — he looked at you as if you were the moon and stars.
Then, before you could catch your breath, he slid his hand down your back and dipped you low, his arm strong and sure behind you, the beautiful painted ceiling above you with the skylight creating a halo around his head.
The world spun, tilted, and all you could do was cling to him, laughing, and breathless as you stared up into his smiling eyes.
"God, you're beautiful," he whispered, just for you.
He brought you up slowly, holding you so close your masks brushed, your noses almost touching, your breaths shared in the tiny space between you.
You clutched at his lapel, heart hammering in your chest, completely lost in the moment — but completely his.
You tilted your chin up and closed the distance between the two of you.
The kiss started slow, achingly slow — the two of you memorizing it all, the feeling of each other in one another's arms.
But then he groaned low in his throat, a sound that went straight through you, causing an ache to stir deep below, between your legs.
You deepened the kiss — heated, hungry, losing every bit of restraint you had pretended to have all night.
His hand slid higher, threading into the hair at the back of your head, anchoring you to him.
When he finally pulled back after the song ended and started into a new one, his forehead rested against yours, both of you breathing hard, smiling without meaning to.
"God help me…" he muttered against your lips, "... you’re going to be the death of me tonight if you keep kissin’ me like that."
Before either of you could speak again — still breathless, still clinging to the high of that kiss, a deep, rich voice cut clean through the haze.
“There you are.”
You both turned slightly, still tangled together. A tall man in a navy velvet jacket stood a few feet away. He exuded the unmistakable air of people around him beckoning to his call.
“Didn’t mean to interrupt,” he added with a cheeky smile that said otherwise, “but I need a quick word with you before the Tets people get too deep into the champagne.” he nodded towards a group of people across the room, all enjoying the party. He turned to Harry, touching his shoulder, starting to pull him to join him, completely ignoring you.
You felt Harry shift, his posture subtly straightening, and just like that, the man you’d been dancing with, the one who’d whispered things that still buzzed in your veins — slipping into something more polished, more composed. But his hand didn’t leave your waist, he didn’t let himself be pulled away towards the gentleman.
“Of course, sir,” he said, then paused — just long enough to turn to you and place a steadying hand on the small of your back. “But before I disappear—” he looked back at the man, his voice smooth, but warm, “—I’d like to introduce you to my girlfriend.”
‘Girlfriend? Did he really just say that?’
The word hung in the air for half a second longer than it should have, stealing the breath from your lungs and making your heart pound excitedly.
Your eyes fluttered up at him, but he didn’t flinch — just gave you the softest, quickest squeeze at your side. His eyes flicked down, as if to say yes, I meant that, and I hope you’re okay with this, all at once.
A blush flared beneath my mask, but you managed a graceful and polite smile as the gentleman held out his hand for you to shake.
You gently took it and quickly ran through your head at who he may be. He was someone higher than Harry who commanded respect. From conversations with him, the only person you could think of that he could be was the CEO, so you took a blind shot. “You must be Mr. Clarkson, it’s lovely to meet you, sir.”
“Pleasure is all mine, sweetheart,” he said, gently shaking your hand.
'Bullseye. Thank god'
He offered a short soft smile. “Glad he’s not here alone — man needs someone to keep him grounded.”
You shook his hand and offered some polite response that you barely remembered the second it left your mouth, because your brain was still short-circuiting around that one word.
Girlfriend.
Mr. Clarkson nodded at Harry to follow him before walking away.
Harry leaned down again, his voice lower, private, “I’ll make this fast. Don’t run off too far.” he joked and gave you a quick wink.
“Wouldn’t dream of it” You whispered back, still trying to keep the smile in your voice as your thoughts were running wild.
He brushed his lips against your cheek ever so softly.
Before you knew it, he turned to follow his boss toward the edge of the ballroom, already murmuring numbers and terms as they walked away — leaving you on cloud nine.
Chapter 4
Summary:
Your night with Harry continues at his work's masquerade ball, where tension runs high and each other's feelings are put on the table.
Chapter Text
You remembered the first time it hit you — really hit you — that you weren’t someone Damon was proud to love.
It was his sister’s engagement party. You’d worn that soft blue dress he once said made you look “sweet.” Curled your hair the way he liked. Smiled politely, asked questions, showed up fully — present, eager, trying.
But when he introduced you, it was with a single name. No title. No warmth. Just, “This is Y/N .” Not my girlfriend, not someone special. Just… an accessory to his evening. A plus-one with no context.
When you stood by his side, waiting for his arm to slip around your waist, for his hand to find yours — it never came. He kept just enough space between you to remind everyone that you weren’t his.
At dinner, you reached for his hand beneath the table, and he didn’t even look at you. He eventually pulled his hand away to grab his drink and never returned it.
When you spoke up during the group conversation — trying to join in — he cut across you with a joke, something about how you “always had opinions,” followed by a laugh from his friends that didn’t reach their eyes.
You felt your cheeks flush, and not in the good way. Like you were being tolerated. Like love meant being quiet and grateful, not seen and celebrated.
You felt so damn small.
You tried to play it cool. Tried to lean into him later as everyone stood around chatting, hoping for a small sign of comfort, of affection. But he stepped away to join someone else’s conversation, laughing harder, smiling wider — like he was more himself without you near.
You stood there in your heels, clutching your glass, staring down at the ice melting in your drink as voices hummed around you. Alone, while standing next to the person who was supposed to make you feel most at home, supposed to make you feel seen.
That night in the car, you asked softly, “Why didn’t you tell them I was your girlfriend?”
He shrugged, eyes still on his phone. “What’s the point in putting labels on things? It’s not that serious.”
You swallowed hard, turning to look out the window, hiding the way your heart cracked a little.
After that, it became routine — how he turned into someone else around other people. More detached. More polished. He'd let you sit beside him, but never close. He'd laugh at things you said when you were alone, but then roll his eyes when you said the same things around others.
He never invited you to family dinners. Said it was "complicated." Introduced you as “a friend from work” when someone unexpected ran into you in public. He texted back late. Forgot anniversaries. Gave affection only when it benefited him — when he wanted something, or needed to prove something to someone else.
You started shrinking without realizing it. Spoke less. Laughed less. Smoothed yourself down into something more palatable. Someone easier to explain away.
But it still wasn't enough. Because he never looked at you like you were something he was lucky to have.
But with Harry — it was never a question.
From the moment he’d first pulled you into his orbit — that slow, steady charm like gravity — he looked at you like he couldn’t believe you’d said yes to even being around him.
He had introduced you to everyone tonight like you were a treasure. “This is the beautiful woman I've been telling you about,” he’d say, with that low warmth in his voice, his hand already on the small of your back, anchoring you to him. “She’s brilliant, by the way. You’ll love her.” Then smile down at you or kiss your temple — proudly.
When you laughed, he didn’t flinch or shush you — he leaned in closer, eyes crinkling like your joy lit something in him. When you had an opinion, he listened like it mattered. When you spoke up in some of the busier conversations tonight, he’d glance your way and nod subtly, as if to say I’ve got you. I’m here.
He held your hand whenever he could, at every table. Not as a statement. Not to prove something. But simply because he wanted to. Because being near you never embarrassed him — it settled him.
So when you watched Harry disappear into the crowd, his tall frame quickly swallowed up by suits and sequins — your heart soared.
You were beaming.
The hum of music returned to your ears, warming something deep inside you. You were still floating a little — replaying that word over and over in your head.
Girlfriend.
You barely had a second to gather your thoughts before a voice slipped in beside you — cool, smooth, and just a touch too friendly.
“Well, I’ll be damned. You’ve got to be her.”
You turned to find a tall man, all swagger and smugness, lounging with a champagne glass in hand. His hair was slicked back like he spent too long in the mirror, and his tie hung just a bit too loose — casual in that deliberate way that tried too hard not to care.
Your eyes narrowed slightly. There was something about him, you just didn't know what quite yet.
He grinned wider at your silence. “Didn’t mean to spook you. Just… had to see what all the fuss was about. And now I get it.” He grinned.
That voice — that condescension dressed up as charm — it tickled something in the back of your mind.
You didn’t know his name, not exactly, but you’d heard Harry mention someone like this before – in the few times he’s spoken to you about his work. ‘The guy who made meetings drag. Always had something to say, usually wrong. Thought he was God’s gift to strategy.’
Everyone that Harry knew, or respected, had already been over to see him, or he’d already introduced you to them. With that deduction, you thought there’d be no harm — you’d play along.
“Oh,” you said lightly, lips curving into a smile. “So you’re that guy.”
His brows ticked up, caught off guard. “That guy?”
“Mm. The one Harry sighs about when he tells me about the meetings you're a part of, or I should say – ones you force your way into...” You took a flute of champagne as a waiter walked by and took a sip.
That made him laugh, even if his eyes sharpened a bit. “Ouch. Well, I’m sure he’s just threatened. After all, it’s not every day someone like him gets someone like you.”
You tilted your head, playing along. “And what exactly is someone like me?” You took another small sip, keeping your eyes on him.
He stepped in, just a little closer than necessary. “Too bright. Too interesting. Too... alive.” He leaned in more, voice low and teasing. “You sure you’re not bored already? The man talks in spreadsheets. I can’t imagine he’s any fun when—”
“Oh, he’s plenty fun,” you cut in sweetly, letting the implication hang just long enough to watch him flinch. “Besides, I like men who know what they’re doing. Harry doesn't need to talk about it.”
His smirk faltered.
Before he could recover, a warm, familiar hand slid across your back. Harry’s hand. Claiming. Calm. Dangerous.
“Funny running into you, Dorsey,” Harry said, tone casual but tight.
Dorsey, Alex Dorsey. You filed that away — the name from a few venting sessions, the man Harry nicknamed, ‘a walking ego with Wi-Fi access.’
Alex straightened, the smirk reappearing like a reflex. “Harry,” he said smoothly. “You didn’t say she was this charming.” He took a sip of his champagne.
“I didn’t say anything,” Harry replied, then looked down at you with a soft edge that didn’t quite reach his jawline. “At least to you.” He looked back to him and tutted. “Didn’t think I needed to.”
Alex lifted his glass in some mock-toast. “Touché Castillo.”
You leaned into Harry just slightly, eyes never leaving Dorsey’s. “Your friend was just trying to convince me I was in the wrong company. Silly, right?”
Harry’s smile was tight. “That’s one word for it.”
Dorsey chuckled, clearly not used to being so easily brushed off. “Well. Don’t let me keep you. I’m sure we’ll bump into each other again.” He winked at you and gently touched your arm before starting to walk away.
“I’d rather you didn’t,” Harry muttered — just low enough that only you could hear — as Dorsey melted back into the crowd.
You turned to him with a teasing smile. “Someone’s feeling possessive.”
He looked down at you, that fire still smoldering in his gaze. “You have no idea.”
“Mm,” you hummed, resting a hand on his chest. “That was fun. We should do that more often.”
Harry raised an eyebrow. “You want me to watch you flirt with Dorsey again?”
“Oh no,” you said with a wicked little grin. “I want you to remember how fun it is when you get a little jealous.”
His gaze darkened instantly. “Careful.”
You leaned up on your toes, brushing your lips just beneath his jaw. “Or what?”
Harry’s breath hitched just slightly, he could feel the blood rushing downwards. “Or I remind you exactly who you belong to.”
And just like that, the air around you thickened again — but now it buzzed with a very different kind of tension.
Your lips hovered just beneath his jaw, breath warm, your fingers teasing at the lapel of his suit.
His hand on your waist flexed, fingertips digging in slightly — like he was holding himself back.
“You want to play that game, baby?” he asked, voice like smoke.
You pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, and God, the heat in them. Dark. Focused. Possessive in a way that made your stomach flip and heat rush down between your legs.
You shrugged one shoulder, voice soft but smug. “Remind me, then.”
Harry didn’t respond — not verbally. Just the subtle shift of his body as he guided you out of the ballroom with quiet urgency, the hand at your back never leaving your skin. You passed people without seeing them, barely aware of anything but the simmering pull between you.
‘A door. A hallway. Somewhere quiet.’ was all he could focus on right now.
The moment the door to an empty hallway shut behind you, he had you pressed lightly to the wall, not rough, but certain.
“You liked making me jealous,” he said, a little incredulously, as if he couldn’t quite believe you’d done it.
You nodded, breathing a little harder now. “I liked what it did to you.”
“I’ve been dying all night to get you alone,” he said, voice roughened by restraint.
You opened your mouth to say something smart — to tease him, maybe — but he was already there; already cupping your cheek to pull you close to him as he leaned in.
His mouth met yours again, and this time, it wasn’t tentative.
It was need, slow and burning. The kind of kiss that made you clutch the lapel of his suit, the kind that felt like it had been waiting all night.
His hands were everywhere and nowhere — one moved from your cheek to brace the wall beside your head, the other at your waist, fingertips teasing the curve of your hip. Your back arched slightly into him, letting him take whatever he wanted, whatever he needed — and offering just enough to make him chase more.
He kissed down your neck, lips brushing your skin like a secret.
“I don’t like people looking at you like that, I don’t like people like fucking Dorsey touchin’ at you…” He murmured, voice barely more than a growl.
“He barely touched me.” You smiled as he came up to capture your lips with yours, kissing him deeply.
He pulled back after a kiss or two. “He didn’t have to,” he said, quieter now, the words heavier. “You’re not his to touch.”
Your breath caught.
He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes — stormy and serious and sincere all at once. His hand moved to cup your cheek, and his thumb brushed the corner of your mouth. “You know that, don’t you?”
You nodded slowly. “Yeah,” you breathed. “I know.”
He kissed you again, and this time it was different — slower, more reverent, like he needed you to feel what he couldn’t say fast enough.
You let yourself fall into it, into him, the way his lips moved over yours like he had all night to learn your shape.
Then — voices.
Coming down the hallway.
Harry froze, head tilting slightly as he listened. Footsteps. Getting closer.
He let out a breath, forehead leaning against yours. “Shit.”
You stifled a laugh. “Guess scandal’s not on the schedule tonight.”
He chuckled quietly, but he didn’t let go of you. Instead, he scanned the hallway and nodded toward a side door. “Come on,” he whispered, tugging you gently toward it.
You slipped inside a dim storage nook barely bigger than a closet. Warm, quiet, and filled with linen-scented air and the sound of your hearts pounding.
Your back was to the door, Harry, inches from you. He rested one arm above your head, not crowding, just close — grounding.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “Didn’t mean to pull you into a closet like some hormonal idiot.”
You smiled. “You say that like I didn’t follow you in here willingly.” You teased.
A beat passed, and then something softer settled over the moment.
“Earlier,” you said, voice quieter now, “when you said I was your girlfriend... did you mean it? Or was it jus–?”
Harry’s eyes didn’t waver as he stopped you. “I meant it.”
Your breath caught again — not from the kisses, not from the chase. From this.
“I didn’t say it on accident or to get props from my boss,” he added. “I said it because I’ve been thinking it. Because I want it to be real. I want nothing more than to be with you – to be yours.”
You looked up at him, feeling suddenly unsteady in the best possible way. “It didn’t freak me out.”
His brow lifted, hopeful. “No?”
You shook your head, smiling. “It felt… good. Like it fits.”
He exhaled like you’d knocked the wind out of him.
“Then it’s real,” he said simply. “If you want it to be.”
And when he kissed you again, it wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t about who saw or who didn’t. It was about you. Him. This tiny pocket of space where the rest of the world didn’t matter.
The hallway was blessedly empty when the two of you finally slipped out.
Harry checked first — cautious, but casual — before opening the door and gently tugging you behind him. His fingers laced with yours instinctively, holding on even after the thrill of hiding had passed.
You were flushed, a little breathless, still riding the high of his mouth on yours and the way he’d said It’s real. You weren’t sure how long you’d been in there, but the champagne had nothing on what you were feeling now.
“Think anyone noticed?” you whispered.
Harry glanced at you sidelong, mouth twitching into a grin. “If they didn’t, I should probably try harder.”
You laughed under your breath, giving his shoulder a playful bump. “You’re cocky all of a sudden.”
He leaned in, brushing his lips briefly by your ear. “You just agreed to become my girlfriend. That does things to a man.”
You tried to hide your smile and failed.
Back in the ballroom, the music had shifted to something slower, smoother. The crowd had thinned slightly, giving the whole room a more languid, glowing feel — like the after-hours version of the party.
You were just about to head back into it when a familiar voice cut through the air behind you.
“Well, well. Took you long enough.”
You turned to find a man that you recognized from the wedding, one that Ben even despised. His tone was breezy, but there was a glint in his eye that said he knew exactly what he was doing.
“Thought you’d gone off to do something terribly professional, but you look…” he glanced at you with a pointed smirk, “…flushed, Castillo.”
Harry’s jaw ticked, but he didn’t rise to it. Instead, he stood a little closer to you, his hand slipping down to rest more deliberately at your waist.
“Rob,” he greeted coolly.
Ah. That was the name you’d caught once or twice, Robert Mangold — always accompanied by a certain tone in Harry’s voice, annoyed mostly. Some kind of work rival. Friendly, maybe. But only on the surface.
“Oh,” Rob said, his smile sharpening. “So you’re the one. The mystery girl I kept hearing about on the work trip.”
Your brows raised. “Mystery?”
“Harry talks,” he said with a wink. “Mostly when he’s had a drink. Or three.”
You could practically feel Harry’s jaw clench.
So you smiled sweetly. “All good things, I hope.”
Mangold’s gaze lingered just a beat too long. “That depends on your definition.”
Before Harry could snap — and you could tell he was close — you slipped a little closer to his side, your arm brushing his as you tilted your head.
“Funny,” you said to Rob, voice laced with feigned innocence, “he hasn’t mentioned you at all.”
Harry choked on a laugh.
Rob blinked.
You smiled wider. “Guess he’s got better things to talk about.”
Rob cleared his throat, trying to regain his grounding. His eyes flicked between the two of you. “Didn’t realize you were the one keeping our boy so distracted lately,” he said to you, his grin lazy and just a little too direct.
You didn’t flinch. Instead, you smiled sweetly. “Oh, I’ve been keeping him very busy. Haven’t I, baby?”
Harry let out a quiet breath — the kind that almost sounded like a laugh — but there was something undeniably pleased in his expression as he looked at you.
“More than I can handle,” he murmured.
Rob raised a brow. “Well, just make sure he shows up to the Tets meeting tomorrow morning. Preferably not hungover or covered in lipstick...” he jabbed.
You leaned into Harry slightly, cocking your head at Rob. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure he’s… thoroughly looked after tonight.”
The other man gave a low chuckle, clearly caught off guard, and Harry, behind you, bit back a grin.
“Good to meet you, Rob. You have a lovely rest of your night.” You smiled tightly.
Rob’s smirk faltered just a fraction, and then he nodded and walked off, disappearing into the ballroom.
Harry turned to you with wide eyes as soon as he was gone. “Thoroughly looked after?”
You grinned. “Too much?”
“God, no. I like it when you’re like this… witty and confident.”
“Well,” you teased, brushing a finger down the lapel of his jacket, “maybe next time he’ll think twice before trying to bait you.”
Harry gave a soft, head-shaking laugh, pulling you into him by the hips. “You might be the death of me.” He said leaning back in for your lips slowly.
You grinned and bit your bottom lip as your arms came up around his neck. “You said that already.”
“And I meant it.” He kissed you once, slowly. “But what a way to go.”
You pulled back and combed your fingers gently through his hair. “I like when you get like this — when you pull me close when we are with others… like you’re making it well known…” You murmured as you nudged his nose.
Harry didn’t say anything at first — just tugged you a little closer. Then, softly, near your ear said:
“You keep talking like that, and I will drag you into another closet.”
You bit back a grin.
As you made your way across the ballroom, the air between you was buzzing again — not just with heat, but something sharper. A new kind of intimacy. Like a shared secret, sealed with breathless kisses and soft declarations in the dark.
Harry was told that he needed to stay until at least 9 o’clock, and since he hadn’t heard anything about Tets signing officially, the two of you decided to sit down and rest your feet.
The ballroom had become less busy now — soft classical music drifting from the quartet, the sparkle of chandeliers dimmed to a soft amber glow. A few servers moved through the space clearing glasses, their chatter hushed. You and Harry had reclaimed one of the tables near the edge of the room, half a bottle of champagne between you.
Harry leaned back in his chair, collar loosened and shirt rumpled in the best way, his gaze heavy on you. It wasn’t the same hungry look he’d given you in the hallway, but something softer. Surer.
You sipped your champagne and gave him a smile. “You’re staring...”
He didn’t look away. “Can’t help it.”
Your heart did that fluttering thing again, the one that had started the moment he said girlfriend like it was the only word he’d ever meant.
He reached for his drink, tilting it toward you. “You know,” he said, voice low, “I can’t stop thinking about what’s going to happen when I get all to myself later tonight.”
The air went taut — the promise in his voice sending a slow burn straight down your spine along with sending a rush of blood between your thighs.
You opened your mouth to reply, to flirt, to tease — but then…
“There you are, Harry.”
You both looked up to find Mr. Clarkson sliding into the empty seat beside him. Impeccably dressed still, tie loosened just enough to suggest the after-hours for him had begun. His smile was polite, but his eyes carried the same sharp intelligence as earlier.
“Sorry to intrude,” he said with a glance at you. “Just wanted to talk through a few things about the Tets meeting tomorrow… they signed. I just want to make sure we’re aligned.”
Harry straightened a little in his chair, switching gears with impressive smoothness. “Of course, sir.”
They began to talk — something about budget allocations and pitch materials — but your focus had slipped elsewhere.
Specifically, under the table.
You had taken off your heels earlier to give your feet a rest. With that, you slid your foot slowly along the floor until it brushed Harry’s ankle. Just a little nudge. Innocent.
He didn’t react.
So, naturally, you kept going.
Up past the cuff of his trousers, slow and deliberate, circling your toes just behind his knee.
Harry’s voice faltered — just for half a second — before recovering, his posture staying perfectly polite. You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling.
Clarkson didn’t seem to notice a thing, gesturing toward some talking point about competitor analysis. But Harry’s hand had clenched around his glass.
You inched higher.
Your foot grazed further up the inside of his thigh, and this time, you felt the faintest jolt — his breath catching in his throat. Still, he didn’t look at you. Didn’t break. Just tightened his jaw and nodded along to Clarkson’s ramblings.
“I’ll send over the updated spreadsheet by morning,” Harry said — or tried to.
Except his voice cracked mid-sentence.
Just a small hitch. Barely there. But you heard it, and so did Mr. Clarkson, whose brow ticked up slightly in surprise.
“You alright?”
“Fine,” he said too quickly, then cleared his throat, shifting in his seat like he couldn’t quite get comfortable. “Just—dry throat.”
You bit back a grin, letting your foot wander dangerously high now, pressing in just enough to make his leg tense under your touch. His breath stuttered again.
He reached under the table, fingers wrapping around your ankle in a silent warning — firm, desperate — but you only stroked your toes higher, trailing slow, featherlight circles up the inside of his thigh.
The muscle there twitched. He took a sharp breath through his nose.
Clarkson was still talking — none the wiser — but Harry had fully stopped contributing. He was nodding, answering in clipped one-word replies, completely at your mercy.
“Don’t stop,” you mouthed across the table as he turned your way, lips curling in a wicked smile.
Harry’s eyes narrowed at you, a mix of disbelief and barely-contained heat. His hand squeezed your ankle again — and lingered this time.
“I think Harry’s more than ready for tomorrow,” you said smoothly, glancing at Mr. Clarkson with a saccharine smile. “He’s been… very committed to ensure this goes smoothly.”
Harry cleared his throat again, this time slower, deeper. Like he was trying to shake it off. His face was flushed now, eyes darkened, but his voice managed something close to control as he said, “I’ll… handle it, sir.”
Clarkson gave an approving nod. “Glad to hear it. We’ll need you sharp in the morning.”
“I’ll be sharp,” Harry said tightly. “Don’t worry about that.”
Your foot stroked one last, dangerously suggestive pass up his thigh, and Harry very nearly dropped his glass.
Clarkson stood then, oblivious, brushing imaginary dust from his jacket. “Well, I’ll leave you two to your evening. Get some rest. Big day tomorrow.”
You both murmured polite farewells and watched him disappear toward the exit.
The moment he was out of earshot, Harry turned to you with fire in his eyes and a low, stunned laugh. “You’re evil.”
You leaned in, your voice sweet and just a little wicked. “What? I was just helping you practice… composure.”
Harry’s hand slipped under the table, wrapping around your knee, firm and possessive. “You wait until I get you alone.”
You smiled, slow and promising. “That was the idea.”
He grinned and held onto your leg, eyes dark, “Wanna get out of here? I know a place to...” he raised a suggestive eyebrow.
You nodded. “Please.”
Harry stood up abruptly, smoothing his shirt and shooting you a look so hot it made your insides twist. He was just as wound up as you were.
You rose slowly, champagne still dancing on your tongue, heart already pounding as he grabbed your hand and led you through a side hallway.
His pace was steady, restrained — but his grip on your hand said otherwise.
Past quiet corners, linen-draped tables, flickering wall sconces — until he found a door, tried the handle, and pulled you into a darkened lounge. The kind meant for executives to take private calls or host quiet VIP chats. Now dimly lit, intimate.
The door clicked shut behind you. Silence.
You turned to face him, but before you could do or say anything, Harry had you against the wall in one smooth press of his body — not rough, but solid. Intentional.
A small frame behind you fell to the floor in the heat of the moment, neither of you caring.
His mouth met yours without a word, his hands on your waist, pulling you close like he’d waited hours and not had you in that closet less than an hour ago.
Like every second you spent teasing him under the table had wound him tighter and tighter until now – he was unraveling.
“You knew what you were doing,” he murmured against your lips, voice a little breathless. “Nearly made me choke in front of my boss.”
You gasped a laugh, fingers slipping under his jacket to start pulling it off. “You were holding it together so well, though…” you teased.
His jacket fell to the ground. You felt his hand move down to the slit in your dress and pull your thigh up and around him, putting his hips against yours, the feeling of his erection now obvious. His lips found your throat, open-mouthed and slow. “Barely.”
“You’re not mad, are you?” you continued to tease, panting softly.
He smiled against your skin. “Mad?” His hand slid further up, tracing every line, every curve. “I’m obsessed.”
You arched into him as he whispered it, a slow drag of his body over yours sending sparks through your spine.
You moved your hands up to undo a couple of buttons on his dress shirt, wanting more contact with his skin.
He moved back up and with his other hand cupped your cheek and began kissing you with a deeper urgency – a need.
He picked you up quickly, making you squeal and giggle, wrapping your legs around his waist. His grin broke through for just a second — boyish, breathless — before his mouth was on yours again. He walked you to the pool table in the center of the room, and set you down on the edge, letting your legs drape around him, your dress hiked scandalously high.
“I should be mad,” he whispered, pressing kisses along your jaw. “You tormented me out there.”
You smiled against his lips, breath hitching as his hands slid up your thighs again, purposeful. “You loved every second of it.”
He let out a soft, low laugh — the kind that vibrated in his chest and made you feel it through every inch of contact. “You're right,” he murmured, brushing his nose against yours. “God, I did.”
Then his voice dropped — deeper, rougher, laced with something like awe.
“I need you.”
The words barely escaped before he kissed you again, deeper this time, all tongue and heat and want. You clutched at his shirt, pulling it loose from his waistband, needing more of him, needing skin. The way he responded to your touch — the hitch in his breath, the tension in his muscles — was addicting.
He pulled back just enough to look at you, hands cradling your thighs, his gaze scanning your face like he was trying to memorize every flush of your cheeks, every flicker of your lashes.
“I can’t get enough of you,” he said softly. “Not tonight. Not ever.”
You cupped his jaw and smiled, just as breathless. “Then don’t stop.”
A pause, just for a heartbeat — and then he slid his hands to your hips and dragged you toward the edge of the table, pressing himself back between your thighs, his body heavy and solid against yours.
“Promise you won’t stop looking at me like that,” you murmured. “Like I’m the only one.”
“I wouldn't dream of it.”
That did something to you— he felt it.
His kiss turned fevered again, hungry and reverent at the same time, like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to worship you or ruin you.
You moaned softly against his mouth, and the sound made him shudder.
“Say it,” he breathed. “Say you want me.”
“I want you, Harry.” Your voice cracked a little on his name, and he groaned in response, pressing you back slightly onto the felt surface.
Then, before either of you could do anything—
A faint creak. Voices in the hallway.
You both froze.
He looked toward the door, his breathing heavy, his hand still resting dangerously high on your thigh. Then he turned back to you, eyes wide but amused. “Fuck.”
You bit your lip to keep from laughing. “Think it’s locked?”
“I hope so,” he whispered.
“Is it so hard to get a moment alone? No interruptions?” You whispered, sitting back up, half-laughing as adrenaline and desire tangled in your chest.
He chuckled and put his hand to cup your cheek, whispering, “Perhaps that’s our cue to leave?”
“Yeah?” You gently nudged your nose with his, sliding your hands slowly up from his waist to land on his chest.
He swallowed and kept his eyes on yours, “I think it’s time for us to get some time alone, enough hiding in closets and backrooms.” He gently stroked his thumb across your cheek.
Your gaze softened, and you nodded. “How close do you live from here?”
He chuckled softly, “About 5 minutes. Why do you ask?”
You leaned in and pressed a slow and deep kiss to his lips before slowly pulling back, breathlessly whispering, “Because I don’t know about you, but a 20-minute drive to my place sounds agonizing…”
He softly nudged your nose against his. “Mm. You’re right. My place it is then.” He helped you slide down from the table, both of you hurrying to gather yourselves as the voices sounded closer as you listened.
You fixed yourself up and then a knock on the door, followed by, “Anyone in there?”
Harry looked at you, not knowing what to say.
You cleared your throat, “Yes! One minute, please…”
Harry mouthed oh my god at you, trying not to laugh as he grabbed his jacket off the floor, raking his hands through his hair and quickly fixing his shirt.
You turned your back to the door, slipped off your masquerade mask, and quickly gathered your hair up into hair clip you had in your clutch, hoping the change was enough to not invite suspicion.
“Okay,” you whispered, breathless. “Everyone I’ve met tonight only knows me with the mask on, right?”
Harry nodded, smiling, his shirt still half-buttoned as he fiddled doing it back up. “You’re a mastermind.”
You pulled your phone from your clutch and raised it to your ear just as a soft knock sounded again—followed by the door creaking open.
“Hello?” a voice called. A woman. Not Mr. Clarkson or anyone else of importance —thank god— but someone you’d met earlier. A junior exec or project manager… she’d introduced herself at the cocktail hour. Nice enough. Not someone who’d seen you up close without the mask.
Harry straightened and turned, calm as ever. “Sorry Mary, we just needed a quick moment to handle a call,” he said smoothly.
She blinked. “Oh… sorry, Harry. I thought this room was empty.”
You smiled apologetically, keeping your phone to your ear. “No worries. I’ll be done in just a second.” Then, into the phone, you added in your best overly professional tone, “Right. If Barbara doesn’t have the contract to Stonebridge by Monday morning, Mr. Castillo said that the deal could be off.”
Harry bit back a grin as the woman gave a polite nod. “Of course. Carry on.”
She left, the door clicking shut behind her. You both stood still for a beat.
Then Harry leaned in and whispered, laughing quietly, “You’re wicked.”
You raised an eyebrow. “I’m efficient.”
“Barbara can’t get it together, again?” he teased, kissing the edge of your smile.
“Right? I know… I think we may have to let her go…” You whispered, giggling as you shoved your phone back in your clutch.
He cupped your cheek, eyes warm and shining. “You’re going to get us in trouble one of these days...”
You brushed your fingers down his chest, tugging gently at his jacket. “Only if we get caught,” you winked, then backed up slowly, holding your hand out for him to take. “Now come on, handsome.”
He shook his head, chuckling as he reached forward and laced his hand with yours — following you out the door.
The city buzzed beyond the velvet ropes and valet line, but neither of you spoke during the drive. You could feel the heat simmering — the way his fingers curled tighter around your thigh, the occasional glance that said just wait.
By the time you got to his place, you were practically vibrating. The elevator ride up with a bellboy glancing at you both — torture.
Harry's penthouse apartment was quiet — with low light spilling from the kitchen, casting a soft glow across the hardwood floors. The moment his front door shut behind you, the air thickened.
Not with urgency, but intention.
You stepped in and were taking it all in, a part of you stunned at how big his place was. You knew he was rich, but this rich? Good god, this was filthy rich.
He stepped behind you slowly, bringing your attention back to him — his hands brushed your waist as he leaned in. His voice was just above a whisper, rich with that velvet edge that only came out when the world fell away.
“You looked so damn good tonight…” His fingers traced the edge of your dress, featherlight. “But I must admit, all I wanted to do was get you out of this dress...”
You turned in his arms, hands sliding up his chest. “You looked good too,” you said with a teasing smile. “I still bet half the room was wondering who you were going home with.”
He leaned in closer, his lips grazing your cheek, not quite a kiss. “They knew.”
You smiled, lips moved to brush his jaw. “You sure?”
“Positive.” He backed you gently toward the bedroom, one step at a time, never breaking eye contact. “Especially after that stunt we pulled earlier in the night and then your little stunt under the table.”
You gave a playful shrug, pretending innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, ‘stunt under the table’…”
“Oh, playing coy now, are we?” He let out a low laugh, kissing the corner of your mouth.
You giggled as you stroked his hair back, eyes bouncing over his features, memorizing every little thing you could about him.
He pushed the bedroom door open and guided you inside with one hand at your back.
The room smelled like him — warm, woodsy, clean.
“Me vuelves loca, nena,” (You drive me crazy, baby) he said softly.
Then he leaned in, and this time the kiss was slower. His hands didn’t rush to undress you — they explored over your clothed body instead. His mouth moved with reverence, mapping every curve like a confession.
He broke the kiss just enough to whisper, “I want to take care of you tonight….”
Your fingers slipped into his curls, gently tugging him back in. “Then take your time,” you whispered. “I’m all yours.”
That did something to him — you saw it in the way his jaw clenched, the way his breath stuttered just slightly. Like your words struck a match to something already smoldering inside him.
He knelt slowly in front of you, never taking his eyes off yours as his hands slid up your thighs, bunching your dress higher until it rested around your hips. The drag of fabric across your skin felt electric — deliberate and slow. His lips brushed over your knees, then your inner thigh, until your breath hitched.
“You have no idea,” he murmured, lips warm against your skin, “how long I’ve thought about this. About tasting you. About worshiping you.”
Your hand found his shoulder for balance as he gently nudged your legs farther apart, his kisses getting closer, more urgent, but still wrapped in restraint — in care. You felt it in how he touched you like you were something rare. Precious.
One of his hands slipped your panties down and off, his other still steady on your thigh. His eyes met yours again before he leaned in, his voice a low vow against your skin:
“Let me make you forget the world.”
And then — he did.
His mouth found you with devastating softness. He took his time, savoring every flick of his tongue, every roll of your hips, every sound you made just for him. One of your hands clutched his shoulder while the other tangled tighter in his hair, and when your thighs trembled around him, he only held you firmer — grounding you, guiding you through it, like he wanted nothing more than to memorize every second of you falling apart.
When your legs started to give out, he grinned as he stood. "Sabes tan dulce, cariño." (You taste so sweet, darling)
You blushed and smiled, repeating what he said with a small giggle. "What does that mean?"
He cupped your cheek and whispered, "You taste so sweet..." then he leaned in, "Would you like a taste?"
You nodded and leaned in to meet his lips in a slow, deep kiss. The sweetness of yourself, mixed with the champagne and the sweetness of his scent, drove a deep want in you. You needed him—now.
When he pulled back, you were breathless, fingers gripping his shirt as he lowered you gently onto the bed. The air between you buzzed with anticipation, the promise of everything to come unraveling at a delicious, deliberate pace.
He hovered over you, eyes searching yours, checking — not just for permission, but for intention.
“Is this okay?” he murmured, voice husky.
You slowly pulled him down by the collar and whispered against his lips, “More than okay.”
His hands found your thighs, pushing your dress slowly higher — slow enough to feel every brush of his fingers, slow enough to make you ache.
“Good,” he breathed. “I plan to take my time.”
Harry’s lips met yours again, deeper this time — no teasing now, just a raw, unguarded need. Still soft, still gentle, but full of intent. His hand slid further up your thigh, the pads of his fingers dragging slowly along your skin, making you shiver beneath his touch.
He pulled back for just a moment to look at you — hair mussed, chest rising and falling, lips kissed pink. And God, the way he looked at you. Like you were art. Like you were something rare and precious and entirely his.
“May I take off your dress?” he asked, voice thick with restraint. His thumb traced your hip, grounding, steady.
You didn’t need words. You slowly guided his hand up to a strap and pulled it off your shoulder with him, your eyes locked on his.
He let out a breath — like he’d been holding it all night.
Then he was on you again, kissing down your neck, your collarbone, reverent as he went. He took his time, undoing the back of your dress slowly, his mouth following every new inch of skin he revealed. There was no rush, no desperation — just a building intensity, like he wanted to savor every second.
Once he had you out of your dress into nothing but your lace bra, his hands roamed your body, lightly grabbing and grounding himself — like he needed to make sure you didn’t float away.
You quickly unbuttoned his dress shirt and peeled it off his body. Your hands roamed his skin, and you felt his lips discover and map over your soft skin.
When you whispered his name, it came out a little breathless, a little needy — and it broke something in him.
His hand cupped your jaw, tilting your face up so he could kiss you again, slow and full of longing. “I’ve wanted this,” he murmured, lips brushing yours, “for longer than you know.”
You softly panted, confessing, “I’ve wanted the same… since the reception hall kitchen…” Your finger curled into his belt loop, pulling him down as you shifted beneath him. His weight settled over you — solid, grounding, everything you'd been craving.
He murmured as his head dropped to your jaw and neck – making soft love marks into your skin. “That night… I wanted nothing more than to kiss you, to hold you…”
And when his hand slipped between your legs, his touch was careful. Exploring. He moved up to the shell of your ear and lowly whispered, “…to touch you…”
You softly gasped and threaded your fingers through the back of his head, gently holding onto him as you moaned his name.
He enjoyed learning the way your body responded to him. He took his time — every kiss, every stroke, laced with a devotion that made your breath catch.
He had you arching up against him as he pressed small circles into your clit — praying for him not to stop.
He moved up and began kissing your lips slowly, intentionally – he muttered in between each kiss,
“God, you’re so beautiful when you come undone.”
"You're gorgeous like this… completely wrecked and mine."
¿Sabes lo hermosa que estás así? ¿Completamente deshecha, gimiendo mi nombre? ("You know how gorgeous you are like this? Completely undone, moaning my name?")
You clung to his shoulder and moved your hand down to his bicep as your legs began to tremble.
You began panting and whimpering, whispering, repeating, “Oh fuck… oh fuck…” followed by a soft moan and your hand flying down to the silk sheets below to grip as you came.
His name left your mouth again, soft and wanting.
You were barely coherent when he whispered against your skin, “You’re mine tonight. No more distractions.”
You were softly panting, cheeks flushed. You felt like you were floating.
“Are you sure you don’t have a maid or butler who’s going to interrupt?” you teased as your eyes left his to look around at his bedroom. It was bigger than your living room and kitchen combined. “Jesus, Harry, I think you’re actually Bruce Wayne. Look at this bedroom!” you chuckled slightly, out of breath.
He leaned his head down and softly kissed your neck as you spoke, your breath hitched as his hand curled around your thigh.
Harry lowly chuckled as he came back up to you and grinned — that smug, devastating smirk returning for just a flash. “No Alfred tonight… no one to interrupt us…”
You smiled up at him, heart racing. “No one...”
He leaned in and slowly kissed you again — and this time, there was no holding back. He cupped your cheek to hold you close, like he feared losing you.
He removed his hand from between your legs and trailed it slowly up your body, landing it to lace with your fingers and softly push into the mattress as he started to grind his hips into yours. His erection was still painfully trapped in his trousers.
You softly moaned against his lips before pulling away a fraction, leaning your forehead against his, “I need you…” you whimpered.
He nodded and then kissed you once more, deep and with so much being said without a whisper.
I want you.
I need you.
This is everything I want – you are everything I want.
He then pulled back slowly, and your back arched off the mattress as his mouth traveled lower, each kiss a slow burn across your skin. He took his time like he was memorizing you — the places that made you gasp, the places that made you whimper.
The way he touched you wasn’t frantic, but it was intense — all simmering control and reverent heat. His hands slid under your thighs, spreading them open with quiet confidence, and when he looked up at you from between them, it nearly undid you.
“Eyes on me, baby,” he said softly, lips brushing your inner thigh. “I want to see you fall apart.”
And when he finally touched you — really touched you — you did.
Your fingers gripped the sheets, the back of his neck, anything you could reach. He was relentless in the way he worshipped you with his mouth, slow and purposeful, building you up with every swirl of his tongue until you were trembling beneath him.
He couldn’t get enough of you like this – on his tongue, entirely under his spell. He loved making you feel good — making you feel important.
You gasped his name again as you quickly came to your peak — your words broken, breathless.
Once you started to come back down, he kissed his way back up your body, chest pressed to yours.
He wasn’t done with you yet. He wanted to give you more. He wanted to make sure you were taken care of before his own selfish desires were addressed.
He murmured as his hand slid back down between your bodies and began rubbing gentle, slow circles again, quickly building you back up.
Your eyebrows furrowed, and your jaw slacked open — eyes-fluttering-shut type of build up. “That’s it, mi cielo. Let go for me.” he grinned.
Your body obeyed before your mind could catch up. It hit you in waves — your hips arching into him, your voice a breathless plea against his shoulder as you unraveled.
He held you through it, whispering quiet praises against your skin.
“Keep making those sounds for me — I need to hear you.”
"You're trembling, baby. You're ok — I’ve got you."
After you came back down again — you melted into the sheets, panting heavily, legs shaking – he gently took you by the chin and kissed your lips slowly before softly smiling against your lips.
“Let’s slow down for a second—look at me, you’re okay,” he said softly, gently brushing your hair back.
You looked up at him and nodded, completely undone, leaning into his touch to calm yourself down.
You hadn’t even had his cock yet and had cum more times than you ever had with any other man.
He was so focused on making sure you felt good that you hadn’t even realized you hadn’t offered to do anything for him yet.
You took a moment, taking a few deep breaths before you leaned up, brushing a light kiss against his lips before smirking and whispering, “Can I take off your trousers?” You moved your hand down his chest to pull gently on his belt loop.
He smirked and nodded, “You can do whatever you want, baby…”
You bit your bottom lip and looked down at his lips hungrily before starting to pull his belt undone, “I want to take care of you now…” You kissed his jawline.
He looked down at your hands as they made swift work at getting his belt undone. His pants — along with his boxers — down and off of him.
He eagerly kicked them off the bed, causing you both to let out an excited and lighthearted chuckle.
Once his cock sprang free and you gently wrapped your hand around it, starting to stroke him slowly.
He grunted, and you watched his eyes flutter shut at the contact as he hovered above you. His fists clenched the sheets and your waist, letting out another groan deep in his chest, then muttering something you couldn’t quite make out in Spanish under his breath.
“I want to taste you now…” You nudged your nose with his.
His gaze snapped up to meet yours, and he became partially flushed, and for once — speechless.
“I’ll be careful…” You teased your lips against his again as you whispered.
“I won’t make you cum… at least not this time.” you taunted.
He grinned, his eyes darkened. He liked this side of you. The side where your walls were completely down and you were comfortable around him. The side of you that showed him all parts of you, your vulnerabilities and scars — the side of you that trusted him.
His hand that was gripping your waist moved up and gripped your chin gently, “On your knees then...” he nodded to the side of the bed.
A jolt of electricity ran through your body and your heart started to pound excitedly. You nodded and moved with him to get off the bed. You went to kneel when he stopped you by cupping your cheeks in his hands, “Wait…”
You looked up at him and instantly melted at the look in his eyes. There was lust, but also something softer — something tender and longing that you had as well in yours.
He leaned in and kissed your lips deeply, one hand moving to gently pull your waist close to him — the other hand supporting the back of your neck as he tilted your head up.
You put your hands on his chest and continued to kiss him until the two of you were breathless.
You pulled back slowly and kissed down his body, taking your time as you slowly knelt in front of him — kissing his jaw to his neck to his chest then down at the inner part of his hip bones, causing him to groan softly.
You couldn’t help but grin at the power you had in this moment. You wanted to make him feel just as good – if not better – than he’s made you feel tonight.
You gently took his cock in your hand and kissed the tip, your lips lingering for a moment as you looked up at him.
His heart was racing as you moved your lips down his body. He knew he wouldn’t be able to last long, the sight of your lips on his cock — he knew he was in trouble.
You moved and lightly trailed your tongue up the length of him, taking your time before wrapping your lips around him and slowly taking him into the warmth of your mouth.
“God, you look perfect like that...” he praised, groaning softly.
You lightly moaned, slowly sliding him deeper before gradually pulling back right as he was about to reach the back of your throat.
The breath got caught in the back of his throat, and you felt his knee give out for a moment.
“Fuck baby…” he whimpered.
You pulled off and hummed at the sight. Seeing his cock drenched in your spit was a sight you knew you wouldn’t get tired of, one you’d be recreating often.
“I could get used to how sweet you taste, baby…” Then you went back to wrapping your lips around him, doing the same thing, but this time bouncing your mouth up and down on him slowly. He eventually reached the back of your throat, causing you to moan at the sensation.
He let out a few shaky breaths as you continued to suck him off, talking you through it:
“That’s it—take it like the good girl you are.”
“God, you feel so good like this. I can’t wait to feel you around my cock.”
He felt a pull behind his navel, and he grunted, not being able to form a coherent sentence, “F-Fuck I’m–…” He clenched his jaw, trying to hold back.
You pulled off slowly with a tight ‘pop’ and bit your lip as you looked up at him, “Need me to stop?” you said innocently, knowing he was close as you felt him start to throb.
He chuckled shakily, his features flushed, but nodded.
After a second, he reached down, took your hand, and pulled you to stand. “Come ‘ere…” He growled, grinning.
You giggled as you stood.
He picked you up, your legs wrapping around his torso, arms around his neck as he carried you back to the bed like he couldn't stand another second without being inside you.
He laid you down gently, kissing you hungrily as your back hit the mattress. His hands roamed over your skin like he was relearning every inch, his body pressed tight against yours, his cock hard and ready.
“You know what you do to me?” he murmured against your lips, grinding his hips just enough for you to feel how much he needed you. "Me arruinas, cariño." (You ruin me, baby)
You moaned softly against his lips and pulled him closer, grinning breathlessly, “You have no idea what you’ve done to me, the things I feel for you… I–” you stopped yourself.
You knew what you were feeling for him. You knew it was something deep, something that usually terrified you. It was a feeling you avoided feeling in the past. A feeling that always ends with you getting hurt. But right now, with Harry, it didn’t feel so scary. Why can’t you say it?
‘I’m falling in love with you…’
He pulled back from your lips and rested his forehead softly against yours, “…I think about you constantly,” he whispered or more so confessed, his breath warm and shaky against your mouth. “Even when I’m with you, I miss you. I crave you…”
Your chest ached in the sweetest way, his words sinking deeper than just your skin.
You cupped his jaw, brushing your thumb along his cheekbone as your eyes searched his, all heat and tenderness and something else — something that felt dangerously close to love.
“I’m right here,” you whispered, arching your body against his as your legs tightened around his waist. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Harry exhaled shakily, like your promise undid him. He leaned in and kissed you again — slower this time, deeper — like he wanted to taste every unspoken thing between you. His fingers traced reverent lines down your body, slow and soft, until he settled between your thighs, his cock slowly sliding in between your folds.
“You’re so soft,” he murmured, kissing your collarbone, your shoulder, your chest. “So good. I just want to make you feel everything.” He moved back up to press his forehead against yours, cupping your cheek gently.
When he finally pushed inside you — slow, thick, filling you to the hilt — your fingers curled into his back. He stilled, keeping his forehead against yours, his breath shaky.
“Jesus Christ,” he murmured. “Te sientes como en el cielo”. (You feel like heaven.)
You gasped his name, wrapping your arms around him as your bodies melted together, moving in a rhythm only the two of you could understand.
You leaned up to kiss him fiercely, rolling your hips up into his with each slow thrust, and he groaned — low and rough — before moving again.
You moaned against his lips and your back arched against his chest, goosebumps littering your skin — that tight coil moments away from snapping again.
“F-Fuck…” You gripped the hair at the back of his head as you continued to kiss him. Another hand moved to his bicep as you began to feel the wave build up to crash down.
“Look at me,” he murmured, pulling away from your lips, voice thick with feeling. “I want to see you... I want to see you come undone on my cock..."
And when you did — trembling beneath him, whispering his name like a prayer — he kissed your cheek, your temple, your lips.
“I’ve got you,” he breathed.
He continued drawing his hips slowly and steadily back and forth. Taking his time, rooting himself in this space and time with you. It wasn’t rough. It wasn’t fast. It was deeper than that — a rhythm born of connection, of all the tension and teasing that had built between you. His fingers laced with yours as he thrusted slow and deep, and when your eyes met, it felt like nothing else existed outside that room.
He whispered your name like a prayer against your lips as you fell apart again — and this time, he followed.
The early morning light filtered softly through the curtains, painting the room in pale gold. The city was quiet — the kind of hush that only came just before the world stirred awake. But in the warm tangle of blankets and bare skin, Harry was already awake.
He lay on his side, head propped up by one arm, the other stretched across the bed to touch you. His fingers traced slow, featherlight paths along your upper arm, his touch reverent, careful not to wake you—not yet.
You looked peaceful, curled toward him, your breathing slow and even. The soft rhythm of your breath grounded him in a way nothing else ever had.
His thumb brushed over your skin again, and he leaned in, his lips hovering just above your shoulder.
“I’m gonna take care of you,” he whispered, so quiet it almost got lost in the morning air. “This… what we have… between us… I’m all in, yeah? No games. No doubts.”
His hand wandered gently to your waist, fingers splaying there like he was memorizing the feel of you.
“I’ll give you everything,” he added, softer now — as if he was afraid to say it out loud. “Just… stay.”
You shifted slightly, not quite awake, but enough that your body moved closer to his in your sleep. It made him smile — wide and full of something warm and vulnerable. He pressed a kiss to your bare shoulder.
“I want every morning to look like this.”
That was the one that did it.
Your lips curved into a sleepy smile before your eyes fluttered open, blinking slowly in the golden light. “Mmm,” you murmured, voice still thick with sleep, “You trying to make me melt before I’m even awake?”
Harry laughed quietly, brushing your hair back from your face. “Wasn’t planning to… but I’d be lying if I said I hated that smile right now.”
You stretched languidly, the covers slipping a little down your back. “How long have you been watching me sleep?”
“Long enough to know I’m in trouble,” he teased, leaning down to kiss your cheek. “You looked too beautiful to wake.”
You turned toward him, your hands slipping around his neck as you pulled him down into a kiss — soft and lazy and unhurried. The kind of kiss that tasted like contentment.
“You meant all that?” you whispered against his lips. “Everything you said?”
Harry’s hand cupped your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek. “Every word. I’m yours...”
You kissed him again, this time a little deeper. “You’re mine...” you murmured. “Don’t think you’re walking away after last night.” You teased.
“Wasn’t planning to, querida...” He said softly against your lips.
His hands slid beneath the blanket, pulling you closer, until there wasn’t a sliver of space left between you. The kiss deepened, and you felt him smile against your lips just before he rolled you gently onto your back.
“What’s this?” you murmured playfully, fingers slipping into his hair.
“Just want to start the day right,” he said, voice low and full of warmth, “by reminding you exactly what you do to me.”
You let out a small giggle, feeling his scruff tickle your neck as he leaned down to kiss your neck, “Mm, don’t you have a meeting with Clarkson?” You wrapped your leg around his waist as he moved to settle in between your legs — no intention of letting him go now.
The covers shifted, and he smirked as he kissed your throat before moving up to your jaw, muttering sweetly, “I’ve got time, mi cielo…”
His hand slid up your leg that was wrapped around him — slowly up your body as he began kissing your lips slowly and passionately — before he slowly buried himself inside you.
Your breath hitched. And the morning unfolded with soft moans, slow touches, and kisses that promised more than just passion — they promised something real.
Chapter 5
Summary:
After an eventful night and morning between you and Harry, a bit of a surprise appearance takes your feelings for him to a whole new level - as well as his.
Chapter Text
You woke slowly, sunlight stretching in lazy stripes across the ceiling, the faint hum of the city below barely audible through the windows. Harry was gone — his side of the bed empty but his scent still there, filling you with warmth.
You smiled when you saw the folded clothes left neatly at the foot of the bed: a worn Fleetwood Mac T-shirt and a pair of soft gray sweatpants, both unmistakably his. A quiet message: Sleep in, I’ve got you.
You pulled them on and padded barefoot out into the apartment, rubbing sleep from your eyes.
The stillness felt different without him, but not lonely. The space was lived in, comfortable, and understated — a perfect reflection of him. And as you wandered through, you began noticing the little intimate details.
Framed photos dotted the shelves and side tables. Harry and his brother at what looked like a lake cabin, beer bottles in hand, laughing hard. Another one of him with a toddler strapped to his chest in a carrier, both of them wearing matching sunglasses. You chuckled and assumed that was his nephew, 'little Harry.'
Another with two little kids — a boy and girl — curled up in his lap asleep, ice cream melted on their shirts. You smiled. These must be his niece and nephew… Anthony and Esmerelda.
As you rounded the corner into the living room, your eyes landed on something unexpected — a sleek wooden panel on the built-in shelf popped open just slightly. Curious, you pulled it open the rest of the way, revealing a hidden toy basket tucked neatly inside. And not just any toy basket — it was full to the brim.
Barbies, G.I. Joes, building blocks, small dinosaur figurines, race cars, even a few slightly worn storybooks with sticky notes marking favorite pages. Your heart warmed. It wasn’t thrown together — this had been gathered over time, with love. Harry didn’t just watch them… he knew them.
You were still crouched by the toys when a sudden sound made you jolt — the click of the lock.
Your eyes found the clock on the stove,
'There's no way he's home already...'
The front door opened.
A man stepped in quickly, holding a set of keys and looking down at his phone. “Hello? Anyone home?” he called, before glancing up and spotting you.
You stood quickly, heart racing for a beat. He froze too — startled, but not unfriendly. His brows raised as he took you in.
He looked enough like Harry to make your breath catch.
“Oh—God, sorry,” you said, taking a step back. “You scared me.” You let out a nervous chuckle.
“I'm sorry, didn’t mean to,” he said with a quick smile, holding up his keys in one hand and a plastic bag in the other. “I’m Simon. Harry’s brother.”
Your eyes widened. “Ah, you’re the man in the picture!” You let out a chuckle of relief. “That makes sense. You look just like hi—”
Before you could finish, two tiny, giggling bodies darted into the apartment behind him, barely noticing either of you as they bee-lined to the hidden toy basket like they had radar for it.
“UNCLE HARRY!” Savannah called out, already pulling a Barbie out by the hair.
Little Harry followed right behind her, eyes sparkling as he grabbed a G.I. Joe figure. “Where is he?” he looked around the room like he was scanning for his uncle.
Simon closed the door with his foot and chuckled. “Not here yet, guys. He just texted me that the meeting ran a little long. Said he’d be home in fifteen.”
You blinked. 'Shit. Did he text me?'
You stepped forward, hands shyly held in front of you. "Shoot, I'm um, I'm sorry. I didn’t check my phone when I got up.”
“No worries,” Simon said easily, then turned to you with a grin and extended his hand. “So… you must be the girl my brother can’t stop talking about. Y/N, right?”
You took his hand, smiling shyly. “That’s me.”
“He talks about you a lot,” Simon added, his tone warm but with a teasing lilt.
“Oh no,” you groaned playfully.
“No, no—don’t worry. All good things.”
Before you could respond, Savannah popped her head up from the toy pile. “Are you Uncle Harry’s girlfriend?”
You looked at Simon, who shrugged with a grin. “6-year-olds, no sense of boundaries…” he mouthed like that explained everything.
You laughed and crouched beside her, not knowing how to answer. “Maybe. Would that be ok with you and your brother?”
Savannah nodded seriously. “You’re really pretty. Do you know how to braid hair?”
Little Harry chimed in from beside her. “Do you like dinosaurs?”
You felt yourself ease, the nerves melting at their innocence and curiosity.
“Um, yes and obviously yes,” you said, smiling wide as they scooted closer to show off their treasures.
Simon let out a low whistle and looked at you. “You’re a natural.”
You glanced at him, then back at the kids. “So… what’s the plan for today?”
Simon’s smile softened a little. “I’ve gotta take Lindee to a doctor’s appointment. It’s a long one — some tests we’ve been waiting on.” His tone dipped, just slightly. “She’s been having a rough couple of months, I’m not sure if Harry’s told you anything… but, we’re still figuring it all out. We didn’t want the little ones there… too much waiting, too many questions, you know?”
Your chest tugged at that as you didn't know about her condition.
You only knew little parts about his family. Enough to know these two by name. But something unexpected made you want to help, be involved with his family, and life. You wanted to do what you could to help.
You nodded gently. “Of course.”
“We don’t know how serious it is,” Simon added quietly. “We’re trying to keep things light around these two."
He put a few things on the counter, some snacks and notes about the kids it looked like.
"I think Harry forgot he offered to sit them or messed up the days, he sounded pretty anxious about messing it up when I talked to him earlier — but honestly, if they’re with you for a few minutes, that’s probably going to be the highlight of their week.”
You smiled, touched, but understandably a little overwhelmed. “I’m happy to keep them company until he gets home.”
“Appreciate it,” Simon said, then gave a pointed glance toward the toy explosion already happening on the living room rug. “And good luck.”
You laughed as he slipped out the door — and just as it closed behind him, Savannah crawled into your lap, holding a Barbie and a hairbrush, humming to herself.
Something about the simplicity of this cracked something else down in your walls. The domestic warmth blooming deep inside you made you excited and hopeful.
‘I could get used to this…’ you thought happily to yourself for the first time in a very long time.
You sat there, cross-legged on the living room rug, surrounded by a kingdom of chaos — blocks, dolls, dinosaurs, a few puzzle pieces that had absolutely no business being where they were, and two very curious little humans who were now firmly attached to your orbit.
Savannah handed you a Barbie dressed in a ball gown and a sparkly purple shoe on only one foot. “She’s getting married today,” she said very seriously. “But Ken is late because his car broke down and he had to ride a T-Rex to the church.”
Little Harry popped his head up from behind a toy Jeep. “No, she’s not getting married yet. She has to fight the lava monster first!”
You gasped dramatically, pressing the back of your hand to your forehead. “She didn’t prepare for lava! I thought this was going to be a romantic comedy, not an action movie...”
Both kids burst into giggles as you acted out Barbie swinging a plastic sword with terrible sound effects. “Hiiii-yah! Take that! For love and sparkles!”
Savannah flopped against your arm. “You’re funny. Can you come over every weekend?”
You smiled. “Only if I get to voice the lava monster again.”
Little Harry looked up at you, wide-eyed. “Are you gonna marry my Uncle Harry?”
Your mouth opened, then closed. “That’s… a big question, buddy.”
Savannah tilted her head as she got off your lap to come sit in front of you with her brother. “Do you kiss him?”
You grinned and pulled your knees to your chest shyly. “Sometimes.”
They both made the most exaggerated gagging sounds you’d ever heard, and you couldn’t help but laugh.
“Do you have kids?” Savannah asked next, completely undeterred.
You shook your head. “Nope, not yet.”
“Do you have a dog?”
“No dog.”
Little Harry looked scandalized. “Not even a turtle?”
“Not even a turtle.” You shrugged with mock drama.
Savannah gave you a long, assessing look. “We’re gonna have to fix that.”
You chuckled and picked up the Barbie, fixing the dress. “I’ve got a family dog, though, but he lives with my parents… does that count?” You looked at the two sitting eagerly in front of you.
They looked at you and then each other and grinned in unison before turning back to you.
“Does the puppy get to visit you?” Little Harry tilted his head.
You nodded, “He does, once in a while…”
Savannah perked, “What kind of puppy is it?”
“He’s a mix, but he’s big and fluffy!” You smiled brightly.
“His name is Grizzly because he looks like a big ol’ bear!” You put up your hands like bear paws, then lunged forward and tickled their bellies. Loud squeals and giggles filled the apartment.
After they caught their breath, Savannah leaned in with the wide-eyed look of someone about to share a very important secret.
“Uncle Harry talks about you all the time,” she said, voice hushed like a little conspirator. “When he calls Daddy, he always says he misses you. He said you might be the one the other day!” then she got up and walked away to get another toy leaving that bombshell.
Your heart skipped, and you let out a small chuckle at the abrupt remark.
“I’m sorry, he said what?”
Little Harry nodded enthusiastically. “He said it on FaceTime! I was in the car and he said, ‘I don’t know, man… I think she’s it.’ Then Daddy told him to calm down,” he added with a proud giggle.
You blinked, stunned. “He really said that?”
Savannah turned and gave you a serious nod. “Yup. And after you met him at the wedding, he wouldn’t stop talking about you at family dinner. He told Mommy you looked beautiful, like a princess. And he said he couldn’t wait to see you again. He was smiling really big when he said that.”
“Like this!” Harry added, stretching his mouth wide and goofy.
You laughed, flustered and deeply, secretly moved.
“I… didn’t know he felt that way,” you murmured, more to yourself than to them.
Savannah shrugged in that way only a kid could and came back over to sit by her brother. “He even told grandma and grandpa about you, and daddy said to mommy, ‘It must be serious, he never tells my mom and dad about someone this early in the relationship. This girl must be someone special for him to open up about it this early'...”
That did it — your heart was officially a puddle.
You brushed a strand of hair from Savannah’s face and smiled. “You two might just be the best little gossip reporters I’ve ever met.”
Little Harry puffed up proudly. “We hear everything.”
—
Harry walked to his front door at a fast clip, raking a hand through his hair as he approached the door.
He hated being late for anything, but especially today.
The meeting had run longer than expected, and though Clarkson had been impressed, all Harry could think after getting a call from his brother this morning, was how he’d forgotten he promised to watch the kids — and how that now fell on you.
He had talked to Simon — told him you were there — but he hadn’t heard back from you since texting earlier to let you know.
And now, nerves stirred low in his stomach. Not because he didn’t trust you, but because the idea of throwing you into chaos without warning made him feel like a complete ass.
He opened the door quietly, bracing for a mess or the aftermath of two tiny humans against well — you.
However, when Harry stepped inside, a bouquet of sunflowers in hand, he paused when he caught sight of you on the floor — a Barbie in one hand, a G.I. Joe in the other, voicing a dramatic monologue about lava monsters and true love.
He blinked once.
Then smiled.
Nothing could have prepared him for the swarm of emotions and feelings rushing through his mind and heart at the sight of you.
Savannah and little Harry turned at the sound of the door clicking shut and gasped excitedly.
“UNCLE HARRY!” they shouted, scrambling over pillows and plastic blocks to throw themselves at him.
He caught them easily, crouching to their level, sunflowers still clutched in one hand as he hugged them with the other.
“What’s goin’ on here, huh?” he asked, chuckling. “Looks like I missed all the fun!”
“Uncle Harry, she’s really good at dolls,” Savannah said breathlessly. “And she knows how to do Barbie’s warrior voice!”
“But... she needs a turtle,” little Harry added solemnly.
Harry looked up at you over their heads and grinned, shaking his head. “You’re magic, you know that, right?”
You chuckled and shrugged, “Nothin’ too complicated when it comes to playing Barbie and GI Joe…”
He smiled and held up the bouquet. “These are for you. For… throwing you into the madness…” his big brown eyes looking at you apologetically.
You stood and came over, accepting the sunflowers with a warm smile.
“They're perfect, Harry. And you’re forgiven... maybe.” you teased.
He chuckled and then turned to kiss each of the kids' heads, "I'm so happy to see you both. Give me a big ol' squeeze..."
They both wrapped their arms around him and hugged him tightly and squeezed him tightly. He acted like it was too tight and strained his breath, "Too tight! Too tight!"
They both giggled and let him go. He let go of his breath dramatically and chuckled at their reactions.
You chuckled watching him with them and squatted in front of him to meet everyone else at their level. Watching him with these two made you start to feel things that you don't think you've ever felt with someone before — and that made you a bit nervous, but in the best way.
Savannah turned and looked at your flowers, leaning in to smell them.
You looked at her smiling, “Did you know that your Uncle Harry is so sweet that he gets me a different type of flower every time he sees me? Just so he can figure out my favorite flower is?”
They both giggled and shook their heads.
Savannah turned back to Harry, gently placing a hand on his cheek and tilting her head. “What flowers are you going to get next time, Uncle Harry?”
He leaned into her hand and softly said, “I was thinkin’ maybe daisies or lilies… what do you think, nena?” (Baby girl)
She gave you a long, thoughtful glance, then leaned in and whispered something in his ear. His smile widened, eyes flicking up to meet yours again.
“Got it,” he whispered back, pressing a playful kiss to her forehead. “I’ll make it happen.”
He stood, which you followed, setting the flowers on the counter nearby. His eyes became a little softer. “Thanks for watching them. I know that wasn’t the plan.”
You leaned in and kissed his cheek, “I didn’t mind. Besides, they kept me very informed.”
Harry’s eyes narrowed at the kids. “What secrets have you unleashed?”
Before you could answer, he lunged, scooping Savannah up with a gasp. “What did you say about me, huh?” he teased, tickling her sides.
Savannah shrieked with laughter. “Nothing! We didn’t say anything!”
Little Harry clung to his leg, trying to climb him. “My turn Uncle Harry! My turn!”
Harry tossed Savannah up gently and caught her as she kicked her feet mid-giggle. “Tell me!”
“Never!” she laughed. “It’s our secret!”
“I’ll get it out of you!” he growled dramatically, setting her down then launching a tickle attack on little Harry, who collapsed in a fit of squeals.
You were laughing so hard you had to lean against the counter.
When Harry finally lunged for Savannah again, you stepped in, gently grabbing his arm.
Savannah squealed and took off running down the hall. Little Harry wasn’t far behind.
“No! Leave the children alone!” you said dramatically, digging your heels in playfully. “Hurry, guys, run away! I can only hold him back for so long!”
The kids cackled with laughter as they disappeared down the hallway, and Harry grinned down at you.
You waited to hear them away from you before you looked up at him and grinned.
“I missed you this morning,” you said softly, your voice still tinged with amusement, but now threaded with something a little more tender. “Waking up without you after the night we had…”
His expression changed, warm and serious all at once. “That won’t ever be happening again,” he murmured. “I’ll make sure of that.”
Your breath caught, just a little, and your cheeks turned pink.
You slid your hands from his arms up to his shoulders, smoothing the fabric of his shirt. “So tell me, how’d the meeting go?”
“Well,” he said, his hands settling on your waist. “It went well. We finalized the paperwork, and Clarkson didn’t drag it out too long. But honestly?” He leaned in a little closer. “I would’ve rather been here, with you… especially after this morning…” He pulled you closer by your waist.
Your smile softened, and you bit your lip playfully. “Were you late? You had to leave in a bit of a hurry…” You blushed, remembering how he left in a rush after you two got quite distracted by each other.
He grinned, his voice dropping just a little as he leaned in, eyes flicking to your lips. “Just by a minute or two.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Before or after Clarkson showed up?”
He smirked. “Still made it before Clarkson — so, win-win for me.”
He was about to kiss you when the kids ran back up and tugged at Harry’s sleeves. "Uncle Harry! What are we doing today?!”
Harry glanced at you and raised a brow, asking wordlessly if you were up for it.
You nodded, already enchanted by the tiny chaos monsters. “I’m in for whatever...”
He looked down at them. “How does the aquarium sound?”
Savannah gasped. “FISHIES!”
Little Harry screamed, “SHARKS!”
They both bolted back to their toys to plan their sea-themed outfits.
He took that opportunity of being alone again and wrapped his arm around your waist.
“You’re incredible,” he whispered, leaning in, forehead brushing yours. “I was freaking out in that meeting thinking I’d left you in the middle of a hurricane.”
You smiled, fingers playing with the collar of his shirt. “It was a little unexpected…”
His brows pulled together, apologetic.
“…but honestly?” you added, brushing your lips against his, “It was one of the best first mornings I’ve ever had.”
He blinked, heart in his throat. “Yeah?”
You nodded. “Your niece and nephew are adorable. Your lava monster voices need work though I heard.”
He laughed, and that sound—low, sincere, entirely his—vibrated between you. “I’ll make it up to you later. Properly.”
“You better,” you teased, leaning into his warmth as the kids shrieked over something in the toy bin.
He leaned in and kissed you softly, right in the middle of the chaos, before pulling back and whispering, “For the record, I missed you this morning too. I hated leaving you alone on our first morning together.”
You hummed and smiled warmly, “Today was only our first Saturday morning together… you’ve got six more days of the week to make up for today, yeah?”
He nodded and leaned back in, pressing his lips against yours in a slow, deep kiss before pulling back and nudging your nose against his, “So, does that mean you’re here for the remainder of the week?”
You lightly giggled and shrugged teasingly, “I guess that depends on how this aquarium date goes…”
He cupped your cheek and smiled adoringly at you, “Indulge me on how I can make that happen?”
You pecked his lips lightly, “Now, where’s the fun in that, Uncle Harry?” You smirked, then turned around towards the kids.
“Alright, who’s got dibs on feeding the stingray’s first!?”
They both gasped, turning around towards you and raising their hands, squealing, together, “Me! I want dibs!”
The aquarium was buzzing with weekend energy — the distant echo of children laughing, the hum of bubbling tanks, and a soft blue glow cast across your face from the massive wall of swaying jellyfish.
It was alive with color — deep blues, greens, and flashes of neon swimming in vast, glowing tanks. The gentle sound of water moved through the air, punctuated by excited voices and the occasional splash from a stingray tank. It smelled faintly of salt and something oddly comforting, like childhood field trips and wonder.
Harry’s fingers laced with yours as you walked through the first gallery, the coolness of the glass displays offset by the warmth of his hand. Every now and then, he would gently bump your shoulder with his, or tug you closer when the crowds pressed in, and you found yourself leaning into him like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Savannah skipped ahead a few paces, clutching the “Scavenger Hunt for Kids” pamphlet the front desk had given her like it was sacred treasure.
“Uncle Harry!” she called over her shoulder, “It says we have to find a fish with spots! That means we have to look at every tank!”
Harry grinned and kissed the top of your head. “If you'll excuse me, I've been recruited for a very important mission...”
You chuckled and reached for little Harry, who had started wandering the other way toward a glowing wall of jellyfish. He took your hand easily, small fingers curling around yours with total trust.
As you walked together, you could feel Harry’s gaze drifting to you — soft, thoughtful, a bit like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing, like he couldn't believe this was real.
You met his glances with the same unspoken warmth, the glow of the morning still fresh in both your bodies. The night before had opened something — the kind of emotional closeness that felt real. Today was only deepening it.
The two of them moved to the next gallery together. You and little Harry followed close behind.
At the touch pool, Savannah squealed when a stingray slid under her fingertips.
Harry crouched next to her, one arm around her back for support, the other guiding her hand carefully. “Gentle fingers, Savi. Just like I showed you, remember?”
The way he said her name — calm, affectionate, patient — made something stir in your chest.
Then little Harry climbed into his lap unprompted, tiny arms wrapping around his uncle’s neck. “I wanna touch it too...”
You stood a few steps back and watched the scene play out, your heart aching in the best kind of way. The way Harry whispered encouragement in his nephew’s ear, held him steady, and smiled wide when he succeeded — it was instinctive. Soft. Fatherly.
You could see it. See what he’d be like with his own child one day.
And that image, him with a tiny human who shared his messy curls and dimpled grin — made you fall just a little harder.
He looked up then and caught you watching.
His expression changed instantly — something warmer, quieter, blooming across his face.
He mouthed, "What?" like he didn’t know he’d just broken your heart open.
You shook your head with a soft smile and mouthed back, "Nothing."
When he stood and walked toward you, he slipped his free hand into yours again, thumb brushing gently over your skin.
“You okay?” he whispered, bending to kiss your cheek.
“More than okay,” you said, brushing your fingers along his jaw, looking up at him adoringly. “You’re… kind of amazing with them, you know that?”
His brows lifted slightly, eyes filled with something unspoken. “Yeah? You sure it’s not just the jellyfish lighting messing with your head?” He joked.
You laughed and leaned in, brushing a kiss to his lips. “Pretty sure.”
As the kids raced ahead toward the penguin exhibit, Harry leaned close and whispered into your ear, “Thank you for the last 24 hours… I–” he looked down shyly as you both continued to walk. “I think this is the happiest I’ve been in a long while.”
You squeezed his hand and glanced at him. “Me too.”
He looked at you and smiled, but there was something else in his eyes, something deeper, something that you saw last night but for a brief moment.
Savannah ran up and grabbed his hand, shaking it eagerly, making you two stop in your steps.
“Uncle Harry, can I borrow your phone, please? I want to take pictures of the baby penguin to show Lindee and Mommy!” She pointed back to the exhibit, where a cute little baby penguin was sitting between its parents' legs.
Harry chuckled, gently letting go of your hand to fish his phone from his pocket. As he opened the camera app, the lock screen flashed for just a moment — and your breath caught.
It was you.
Last night. At the masquerade ball.
You were seated across from him, in that deep red satin dress, the candlelight catching the curve of your smile. A champagne flute was lifted just barely to your lips, your eyes sparkling with something only he had seen. You hadn’t even known he’d taken it. It was candid, soft, and real — and the fact that he had chosen that moment as his lock screen made your heart flutter wildly in your chest.
A slow smile spread across your face. “When did you take that?” you asked softly, your voice dipping below the hum of the aquarium crowd.
Harry looked down at the screen and grinned. “Snuck it at dinner. You looked... breathtaking. Couldn’t help myself.”
Your cheeks flushed, but you didn’t look away.
He handed the phone to Savannah, who took off excitedly toward the penguin exhibit. With his now-free hand, Harry slipped his fingers back through yours, and the two of you followed behind at a slower pace, watching her giggle as the baby penguin waddled across the rock platform.
“You sure you’re okay with all this? I’m sure you weren’t expecting to be on babysitting duty today…” he asked under his breath.
You squeezed his hand. “Are you kidding? This is the best day I’ve had in a long time. I don't care what I’m doing, as long as I’m with you, I’m happy.” You smiled over at the kids who were giggling as they took photos.
Harry looked over at you, his brow softening, like he didn’t quite believe he was lucky enough to hear you say that.
Savannah came skipping back with Harry holding her hand, both beaming. “Uncle Harry, can we take a picture together now? All of us!”
Harry grinned. “Only if I get to pick up you, mister!” Then looked at Little Harry.
Little Harry let out a cheer and immediately clung to his uncle’s leg.
With practiced ease, Harry hoisted him up onto his shoulders, little legs swinging over his chest. You laughed as Savannah ran to you and lifted her arms to be picked up.
“Me too!”
You bent and scooped her up, giggling as she wrapped her arms around your neck. Harry handed his phone to a woman standing nearby. “Would you mind?”
“No problem,” she grinned, angling the phone.
You stood side by side against the shark tank — Harry’s arm looped around your back, Savannah in your arms, little Harry on his shoulders — and smiled wide as the first click echoed.
Another photo.
Then another.
Just before the last one, Savannah whispered something completely unexpected and hilarious in your ear, “Do you think the penguins kiss with their beaks?”
You burst into laughter, turning your head to look at her. And that’s when the camera clicked again.
In the image, you’re mid-laugh, eyes sparkling, your hair slightly wind-tossed. Savannah’s cheek is pressed to yours, both of you joyful and completely in the moment.
And Harry? He’s not looking at the camera.
He’s looking at you.
His head slightly tilted, lips curved in the softest smile, eyes full of something deeper—something quiet and steady, soaking you in like he can’t believe you’re real and his.
When he glanced down at the photo afterward, he hesitated — just for a second — before locking his phone and slipping it back into his pocket with the softest smile on his face.
You sat together near the otter enclosure after that, the kids mesmerized as two otters floated by holding hands.
You leaned into him gently, your voice quiet. “So… Lindee? Tell me about her, what’s going on?”
Harry’s jaw tightened just slightly, and he nodded. “She’s… been having headaches for a couple of months now. We thought it was just stress or allergies or, you know, kid stuff. But then a couple weeks ago…”
His voice caught.
“She had a seizure. During her dance recital. It was terrifying. Full room. Lights. Everyone watching. She just… collapsed.”
You felt your chest tighten as your fingers found his again, holding tight.
“Simon and Liv took her to the ER. Got her stabilized. She’s been home from school the last few weeks in case it happens again. But today, she’s seeing a specialist — a neurologist. They’re doing scans. EEG, MRI. Trying to rule out epilepsy… or something worse.”
“Cancer?” you whispered.
He nodded once, jaw clenched. “That word’s been hanging in the air like smoke ever since. They’re trying to keep it from the younger ones until they know what they’re dealing with. Trying not to scare them. But…” his voice cracked.
You reached over and touched his cheek, gently turning his face toward yours.
“I’m here,” you said softly. “Not just for days like the masquerade or lazy mornings in bed. I want to be here for this too — your family, your real life. I’m here for it all...”
Harry stared at you, stunned for a beat.
“I’m really grateful you’ve let me in like this,” you added. “You didn’t have to, I know it’s not easy letting people in when things are this difficult and sensitive… but I’m so glad you did. I’m glad I can be here for you, I can take care of you…”
He reached up and covered your hand with his, pressing his mouth to your palm.
“I want you to know all the parts of me,” he said, voice low and steady. “Not just the man you kissed last night, but the parts that love fiercely. That protect. That laugh and cry and screw up sometimes.” he let out a soft chuckle.
Then he looked toward the kids giggling as they tapped the glass excitedly, completely oblivious to the weight of the conversation nearby.
“That means letting you meet the people I love and cherish the most.”
You followed his gaze—Savannah clutching the stuffed unicorn she’d brought from home, little Harry pretending he could speak otter.
And then he looked back at you.
And the way his gaze softened as it landed on your face confirmed that you were slowly becoming one of those parts he cherished too.
By the time you all made it back to Harry’s apartment, the kids were buzzed with aquarium energy and begging for pizza with “extra cheese and dinosaur nuggets”, which Harry diplomatically negotiated down to just extra cheese.
After placing the order, he had been swept up into their whirlwind with a grin that hadn’t left his face since this morning.
You excused yourself to catch up on a few messages and work emails that needed your attention. You sat on the couch and began catching up while listening to the chaos around you.
“Uncle Harry!” Savannah called from the living room, clutching a book she’d fished out of the toy bin — a picture book with a faded spine and glittery stars on the cover. “Can you read this one? You do the funny dragon voice!”
Harry groaned dramatically but with a smirk. “The dragon voice again? That voice hurts my throat, sweetheart.”
Little Harry popped up from behind the couch. “Pleeease?”
He sighed in defeat, flopping onto the rug in the middle of their growing nest of pillows. “Fine. But only because I like you two.”
You smiled from the couch, glancing over your phone as you hit “send” on a short work reply. Harry met your eyes just briefly, and gave you a wink — like he knew you were watching. And then, without hesitation, he dove right in.
The dragon voice was absurd. Deep and gravelly, with a dramatic flair that made both kids squeal with laughter. He switched between characters effortlessly — a prince with a posh accent, a queen with a fake British lilt, a tiny mouse who spoke in squeaks.
You laughed quietly into your sleeve as he performed.
Then came the part where the princess confessed her love to the knight — complete with illustrated sparkles and cartoon hearts.
Harry read it in the most over-the-top romantic tone possible, fluttering his lashes as Savannah clutched her chest in mock swoon.
“And then,” he read, “they got married under the stars, surrounded by dragons and cupcakes. The end!”
Savannah gasped. “Uncle Harry! Would you ever get married under the stars?”
Harry chuckled, closing the book slowly. “I mean… sounds kinda nice, doesn’t it?” He looked at her, smiling adoringly.
“Would you marry her?” Little Harry asked, pointing right at you, eyes wide with the innocent boldness only kids could get away with.
You froze, still on the couch, pretending very hard to check something on your phone even though you were listening to every single word.
Harry let out a soft breath, his voice gentle. “She’s pretty special, kiddo,” he said. “If someone like her wanted to marry someone like me? I think I’d be the luckiest man in the world.”
There it was again, that feeling creeping back up. That feeling that can only mean one damn thing.
“Are you gonna kiss her again?” Savannah asked, giggling.
Harry leaned in, lowering his voice slightly — just loud enough for them, and maybe you, to hear. “That’s between me and the pretty lady, okay?”
“Do you love her, Uncle Harry?” she whispered back almost instantly, cupping her hands around her mouth like she was whispering a secret, even though it wasn’t quiet at all.
Harry paused, glancing once toward you.
You kept your eyes on your phone, but your heart was thudding against your ribs. You could feel a heat slowly creeping up your spine, butterflies completely going mad in your belly.
“I think,” he said softly, looking back at her, “when someone makes you laugh, and makes you feel like… well… you, and wants to be part of your world… it’s easy to start loving them...” He looked down at the book in his hands shyly.
Savannah and little Harry exchanged a knowing look — the kind that only tiny humans with very big feelings could give.
There was a tiny pause.
“Will she come to Grandma and Grandpa’s anniversary trip with us next week?” Savannah asked, her voice bright again. “We need another person for Uno because Grandpa cheats.”
That made Harry laugh, full and real this time. “That’s true, nena... Grandpa does cheat." he settled his laugh and nodded. "And you know what? I’ll ask her later about the trip, how 'bout that?”
They both nodded excitedly and giggled softly.
He must’ve turned because suddenly his voice dropped to a near-whisper, as if trying to keep it between just them. But your ears picked it up anyway.
“She’s special, you two. The real kind. Maybe hold off talkin' about our wedding... we don't want to scare her off, yeah?”
Little Harry whispered something you couldn’t hear, and Harry let out a low laugh that made your chest ache.
You sat there on the couch, with a soft smile tugging at your lips. You didn’t mean to eavesdrop, not really. But you also didn’t want to move and miss a single word. Hearing him with them — patient, playful, and so full of gentle love, it made something in you shift again.
Just as you fell into your thoughts, a knock came at the door for the pizza, and the chaos resumed.
Paper plates were passed out, juice boxes opened, and the kids settled in with slices twice the size of their heads.
You stayed on the couch for a moment, watching it all — Harry kneeling on the floor, passing napkins to sticky hands, laughing when Savannah got sauce on her nose.
He was so good at this. At them. At all of it.
And it made your chest ache in a way that felt like falling. It made you think back to just a few weeks ago when you were walking down the aisle with him – you had no idea this would be where you would be, that you'd be feeling this way.
You had no idea you’d be falling in love with your brother-in-law’s best man after knowing him for less than a month.
It was crazy, right? There’s no way he felt the same way.
Later, after the pizza had been devoured and the sugar crash began to set in, the kids returned to their mountain of toys, chattering about which movie to watch. It was between Peter Pan and Aladdin. The two of them were battling it out in a game of rock, paper, scissors to decide.
While that went on, Harry stood and crossed the room toward you, his steps slow and sure.
He came up behind the couch and leaned over gently, his lips brushing your cheek, then trailing lower to your shoulder, where he let a soft kiss linger.
“Hey,” he said, voice low and full of affection. “You still working, or… do I get to steal you now?”
You looked up at him, smiling. “Steal away.”
He grinned, that boyish one that reached his eyes, and nodded toward the growing pillow pile. “They want to build a fort. I told them it’s only possible with an expert architect.”
“Oh yeah?” you teased.
“And I told them,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, “I happen to be dating one...”
Your heart swelled as you slid your phone aside and stood, letting him pull you into a warm hug. You rested your forehead against his, both of you quiet for a second as the kids giggled behind you.
“You,” he whispered, “You are a huge reason today has gone so well for these kids. You’ve been my rock. Thank you…”
You looked at him and smiled, “I’ve enjoyed being with you… seein’ you in your ‘uncle’ mode,” you teased.
He chuckled and leaned in, gently kissing your lips once before you hummed and pulled away, speaking softly, “But wait to thank me… at least until after I’ve built the damn best pillow fort these two have ever seen.”
You touched his cheek and grinned, kissing his nose. “One so fantastic – they get a second burst of energy that we will both regret…” You joked.
He chuckled and leaned back in to capture your lips, kissing you slowly and softly once more, lingering on your lips before grinning as he pulled away, “Then it’s a good thing they are going home in a couple of hours, isn’t it?” then winked and started walking back over to the pile of pillows, your hand in his.
The glow of the TV bathed the blanket fort in soft light, flickering over sleepy cheeks and tangled curls. Both kids had finally given in to exhaustion — Savannah curled into a pillow, one sock half off, her stuffed unicorn tucked under her arm; little Harry lay sprawled beside her, his tiny foot resting against your thigh.
You and Harry had shifted into a quieter part of the night. He was stretched out beside you, his arm wrapped comfortably around your waist, fingertips brushing soft circles on your hip beneath the blanket.
His breathing had slowed, and yours matched it — a steady rhythm of comfort and quiet.
You hadn’t said anything for a long moment, watching the movie together, letting yourself simply feel the warmth of him next to you… but something in your chest stirred. Not just from the softness of the evening — but from what you’d felt watching him earlier.
You turned your face toward his shoulder, your voice barely above a whisper. “Can I tell you something?”
Harry looked down at you, his expression immediately attentive and soft. “Always.”
You swallowed softly, your hand trailing along his chest. “Back at the touch pool… when Savannah was scared to touch the stingray, and you knelt down with her and talked her through it so gently—like it wasn’t about the stingray, but about making her feel safe…”
He gave a faint smile. “Yeah?”
You nodded, something tight and wonderful forming in your throat. “It... It kind of broke something open in me...”
His brow furrowed slightly, not out of confusion, but with that careful focus he always gave you when you were trying to say something real.
“I’ve been… hesitant about a lot of things,” you admitted. “About letting someone in that far. About letting anyone in, period. About what it’d look like… long-term. About whether I could really picture all of it — marriage, family, all that." You softly sighed and a warmth filled your chest, "But today, with you… I didn’t just picture it.”
You turned, looking into his eyes now.
“I wanted it.” You paused for a moment, watching his eyes soften. “Harry, I want that with you.”
Harry’s lips parted, his hand sliding up to cradle your jaw as if he needed to touch you to anchor himself.
You smiled through the sudden pressure behind your eyes. “I want forts on the floor. I want more aquarium dates and sticky fingers and bedtime books in silly voices. I want all of it… But only if it’s with you.”
For a moment, all he could do was stare at you — like he was trying to remember every single word, every blink, every curve of your smile.
Then, gently, he leaned in and kissed you — tender and slow, his hand tangling in your hair, his thumb brushing your cheek.
When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.
“I’ve never wanted anything more,” he whispered. “And I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life than being with you.”
You were about to speak again, about the ache in your chest, when the front door creaked open quietly, followed by the soft rustle of keys and hushed footsteps.
Simon’s voice came low from the entryway. “Harry?”
Harry gently eased away from you, crawling toward the edge of the fort and lifting one of the blankets aside to peek out at his brother.
“Hey,” he whispered back with a wide smile.
Simon stepped in with Liv just behind him. She looked tired but smiled warmly when she spotted you curled up among the blankets, and even more so when she saw her sleeping kids, at peace and content.
“Sorry we didn't knock... we didn’t want to wake them,” Liv murmured, crouching down beside Savannah, brushing her hair away from her face gently.
“You can let them sleep a bit longer,” Harry said softly. “We can carry them down.”
Simon nodded, but something in his face had changed — a stillness, a weight.
Harry stood slowly. “What is it? What happened at the appointment?”
Simon glanced back at Liv, then met his brother’s eyes.
“We got the results,” he said, voice tight.
You sat up at that, your chest suddenly hollowed out by the shift in the air.
Harry’s voice dropped. “So? What’d they say?”
Liv took a slow breath. “They confirmed it’s a rare form of epilepsy. Not a tumor. Nothing surgical. It’s… manageable.”
Harry’s shoulders slumped with visible relief, but Simon continued.
“They think it’s genetic — a rare juvenile type. We’ll need to meet with a neurologist and work out a treatment plan. Medication, maybe diet changes. But it’s not cancer. She’s gonna be okay.”
Harry exhaled sharply, running both hands through his hair before stepping forward and pulling his brother into a tight hug. Simon clapped a hand on his back, jaw tight as he blinked quickly.
You felt tears prick your own eyes — a complicated, swirling relief.
Liv moved to gather Savannah, murmuring softly as the little girl stirred. Simon lifted little Harry, who barely blinked before settling against his dad’s shoulder again.
“We’ll get out of your hair. Thank you so much for today. I’m sure they had a blast…” Liv whispered, heading to the door.
You smiled and nodded, “It was lovely getting to meet them...”
Simon smiled at you and then nodded towards his brother, “Have a good night, you two. Thanks again for this.” Then he closed the front door behind him.
When Harry turned back to you, you were already standing, eyes soft and warm.
He crossed the room in two steps, wrapping his arms around you tightly, his face buried in your neck. You held him just as fiercely, your eyes slipping shut.
“She’s okay,” you whispered. “They’re okay... It's going to be ok...” you comforted.
He nodded into your skin, a few tears falling from his eyes, feeling completely safe to feel these overwhelming feelings with you.
And for a long moment, the two of you stayed like that — wrapped in a hug that said everything neither of you had the words for yet.
The two of you worked together to clean up the living room. Quietly chatting about soft moments today between the kids, picking up the toys, pillows, and blankets as you reminisced. The movie's credit music played in the background, and the warmth of the kitchen lighting created a soft atmosphere.
You leaned against the kitchen counter after bringing the dishes to the counter, arms crossed loosely as Harry stood across from you, running a hand through his hair.
“Can you stay tonight?” he asked, voice gentler than it needed to be — like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to hope.
You smiled, nodding once toward your shoes at the front door. “It’s late. And I think my shoes already made that decision.”
Harry smirked, eyes flicking down toward your socked feet. “Good. I uh, I didn’t really feel like watching you leave...”
You tilted your head, your voice softer now. “Even after today? The chaos, the impromptu babysitting, the emotional rollercoaster?” You teased.
He chuckled and stepped closer, resting his hand on the counter's edge beside yours, voice becoming more sure and soft. “Especially after today.”
You looked up at him, heart already warmed, and something a little more vulnerable settled between you.
“I know it wasn’t what you probably pictured,” he said, voice low, “your first full day here.”
You watched as his eyes danced over your features. “I wanted to cook for you, put on music, maybe convince you to dance barefoot in the kitchen with me..." He hummed as he found your eyes. "Not throw you into pizza-and-bedtime madness.”
You hummed softly and softly sighed before smiling. “But, I liked today,” you said, honest and firm. “I liked all of it. Even the madness.”
He smiled, gaze softening.
“Still…” he murmured, reaching out to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, “... let me make it up to you.”
You leaned into his hand slightly. “Oh yeah? How so?”
“Let me take you to bed… start there.” He gently kissed your cheek.
You blushed and felt butterflies stir in your stomach at thinking of what he'd do to make things up to you.
You smiled and turned toward the sink to gather the used plates and glasses from the counter, “Let me finish these up so we don’t have a mess in the morning, then I’m all yours. I promise…”
He stepped up behind you, slow, quiet — until his chest was flush with your back. You stilled, the dishes becoming forgotten in your hands.
He wrapped his arms around your waist and pressed his lips to your neck. The kiss was soft at first. Barely there.
Then another, just below your ear.
Then lower, to your shoulder, as his hands splayed over your stomach, pulling you gently against him.
“Harry…” you whispered, the breath catching in your throat.
“I’ve got someone hired specifically to do my dishes, hermosa…” he said, his voice a husky murmur against your skin. “Now come to bed.”
You set the plate down in the sink, heart suddenly racing.
And when you turned in his arms, he met your eyes with that same quiet intensity that always seemed to undo you completely.
Neither of you said anything – but you didn’t have to.
You simply stepped closer — close enough that your hands slid over his shoulders — and he swept you up effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist like it was second nature. His hands gripped your thighs, firm and sure, and he didn’t break eye contact as he carried you through the quiet apartment.
The hallway blurred as you leaned down and kissed him, slow and hungry and aching now, your fingers tangling in his hair.
The soft ambient light from the city spilled in through the windows, casting long golden lines across the sheets. His eyes never left yours as he hovered over you, the weight of the day melting into this single, still moment.
His thumb brushed along your cheekbone, and his voice came low, velvet-warm. “I thought about this all day. You. Here. Us, like this.”
You reached up, fingertips grazing his jaw. “I thought about it too.”
Your eyes fell to his lips like you were under a spell. “I missed you in bed this morning… I wanted more of you...”
“I wish I could’ve stayed…” Then his lips met yours, gently at first. A kiss made of soft sighs and lingering warmth. He kissed you like you were the answer to every question he didn’t know how to ask, slow and steady, deepening until you were breathless beneath him.
As he pulled your shirt over your head and tossed it aside, he took a moment to just look. His gaze traced every inch of you, and when his eyes met yours again, something in them softened — not just lust, but awe.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmured. “Not just like this. You… You are everything to me.”
Your breath caught.
He leaned down and kissed you again, slower this time — his hand moving across your side, like he needed to feel every part of you to make sure this was real.
That warmth simmered low between your bodies as you explored each other slowly, softly. His mouth found your collarbone, your shoulder, trailing kisses as if mapping every curve with intention.
You sighed his name, curling your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer to your body.
But then, his body shifted, not rushed, but more certain. His grip on your hips tightened slightly, his kisses deepened, and that softness between you began to smolder.
He pressed his forehead to yours, breathing hard, voice dipping. “Tell me what you want.”
“I want you,” you whispered, your voice trembling now with something more primal. “All of you.”
That’s all it took. His mouth met yours again, but this time it was different — hotter, hungrier.
His hands slipped beneath the waistband of your pants, dragging them down with a low groan. He kissed down your stomach, slowly, reverently, then came back up to hover above you, his chest heaving slightly.
“I need to feel you,” he said, voice gravel now. “Need to be inside you.” He cupped your cheek gently.
You nodded, pulling him closer, legs wrapping around his waist as he pressed against you — skin to skin, breath to breath.
When he finally slid inside, you both gasped at the sensation.
He moved slowly at first, grinding his hips deeper with each stroke, his lips brushing yours, your jaw, your neck. He whispered your name, his hands anchoring you to the mattress as the pace between you built — slow burn to wildfire.
Every thrust, every moan, every whispered praise sent sparks shooting through your body.
“I’ve got you,” he breathed against your throat, kissing it gently. “I've got you, mi vida.”
You held him tighter, head tipped back as the rhythm built, pleasure curling at the base of your spine. The way he moved inside you, deliberate and overwhelming, making you feel everything all at once.
“Please… keep going…” You mewled, back arching upwards, gripping his bicep.
“Yeah? Right there, baby?” He kept up the pace, sucking love bites into your neck.
When it finally broke — that tidal wave crashing over you, it was nothing short of electric.
You clung to him, shaking, gasping his name. And he held you through it, murmuring things into your skin you barely registered through the haze of release. Soft, reverent words like, ‘so good, so perfect, I’ve never wanted anything more like I want you.’
And when the world stilled again, when the only sound left was your mingled breathing, he kissed your forehead, temple, and lips, grounding you back to earth.
“I want every night like this,” he whispered into your hair before pressing his forehead against yours.
You touched his cheek, gathering your bearings, and grinned as you panted softly, breath still uneven against his. “God… if this is what every night with you is like, I’m in so much trouble.”
Harry let out a low chuckle, his thumb brushing along your jaw as he looked down at you, completely wrecked and totally in awe. “Trouble, huh?”
You nodded slowly, teasing and breathless all at once. “The kind I wouldn’t mind drowning in, of course”
He kissed your lips once gently. “Then let me ruin you every night.”
He murmured after a beat. “Every night. Every morning. I want them all with you.” before he leaned back in for your lips.
He stayed there, inside you, kissing you slowly, deeply, letting your legs fall from his waist only to adjust, wrapping an arm under your back and shifting you gently, rolling you until you were straddling him.
He looked up at you, hands finding your hips as if they belonged there. “You have no idea how beautiful you are like this, do you?” he asked, breathless and grinning.
You leaned down and kissed him slowly. “I’m beginning to understand based on how you’re lookin’ at me.” You smirked against his lips.
Your bodies found a new rhythm — slower now, but deeper, more connected.
You moved against him, your fingers laced through his, pinning his hands to the bed beside his head as your lips brushed his jaw, his throat, your name like a prayer on his tongue.
He groaned as you rolled your hips again. “Fuck, baby… you feel unreal like this...”
You moved in time with him — your forehead resting against his, your lips brushing his every time you moaned, like breathing each other in was the only thing that mattered.
His hands slipped free to touch you again, one cupping your jaw, the other sliding up your spine to hold you close, anchoring you to him.
“I don’t ever want to come down from this,” he breathed, his voice a ragged edge of longing.
You put your hand over his and moaned his name before breathing, “Neither do I… I can't ge— fuck…” you gasped feeling him start to thrust against your g-spot.
Your forehead fell against his as you started to whimper, “Oh god, you feel so good… right there… don’t stop…”
He nodded frantically and whispered as he felt himself close to climax as well, “Yeah? You gonna cum for me, baby?" then grunted feeling a deep pull behind his navel. "Fuck... where? Where do you want me?"
You nodded and your hips stalled as his continued to thrust up into you, breath quick and shaky, whispering. "Inside me..."
When you fell apart again, this time together, it wasn’t loud. It was felt. Felt in the way his hands held your hips still as he groaned your name. Felt in the way your lips pressed to his shoulder as you gasped into him, trembling with aftershocks.
You collapsed against his chest, both of you sticky with sweat and breathless, wrapped in a tangle of sheets and warmth of each other.
His arms held you there, one hand stroking your back, the other brushing through your hair.
“I meant it,” he whispered after a few moments of quiet, kissing your temple. “I want every night like this… every morning after. All of it.”
You didn’t lift your head. You just smiled into his skin.
“Me too,” you whispered, your fingers lightly drawing slow circles against his chest. “Especially if they all end with you beneath me, looking at me like that.”
He chuckled, sleep already tugging at his voice. “I’m sure I can arrange that, mi cielo.”
You felt sleep pulling you under it’s spell as you hummed in agreement before murmuring, “Will you be here in the morning? No early morning meetings?”
His eyes fluttered shut slowly as he hummed sleepily and murmured back, deep and low in his chest, “I’ll be right here, my love…”
It took you a few seconds to register those two words. But when it clicked, your head shot up from his chest and looked up at him, eyes wide and heart pounding. Except sleep had already taken him as he began lightly snoring.
Your thoughts began to swarm you with a number of questions:
‘My love?’
‘Did he really mean that, or was that just sleep mincing his words?’
‘Was it a term of simple endearment? Am I overthinking this?
'He says things in Spanish… does it mean something different in Spanish?’
‘Does he love me? He said he was falling – but does he actually love me?’
‘Shit. Do I love him?’
You slowly laid your head back down on his chest and thought about that last question for a moment.
After a few moments, a warmth spread through your chest, and a smile spread across your face as the realization hit you:
You love him, and you think he might love you back.
Chapter 6
Summary:
You battle with self-esteem issues when you realize that Harry might be falling in love with you. Are you enough? Will you fit into his life? Perhaps when you're invited along to a family trip to the Maldives, you'll find out.
Chapter Text
The sunlight spilled across the bed in lazy golden ribbons, soft and slow, warming your bare shoulders beneath the sheets. You stirred first, still tangled in Harry’s arms, your cheek against his chest, the steady thump of his heartbeat the only sound you could register at first.
For a few blissful seconds, you didn’t move. You didn’t need to. His arms were still around you, one tucked low at your waist, the other lazily resting against your back, fingertips tracing idle shapes into your skin like they’d never stopped through the night.
Your lips curled slightly at the memory. His voice whispering into your skin. The things he said. The way he touched you like he already knew every part of you — not in a way that felt possessive or rushed, but like he worshipped you. Curious. Like he wanted to learn you all over again, just because he could.
And then… that moment.
"I’ll be right here, my love..."
He’d said it softly, almost as if to himself. Like it had slipped out in a moment of complete peace and vulnerability — unguarded and drowsy. A truth from somewhere deep in his chest, was spoken without filter.
You didn’t know if he meant it. Hell, you didn’t even know if he knew he said it.
And worse… you didn’t know what it meant. Not really. Not for someone like you — someone who’d been left, lied to, overlooked, or chosen only until the novelty wore off.
The warmth in your chest had spread fast the moment he said it… but now it mixed with a sting of fear.
It all felt so good. Too good to be true.
He’d been nothing but kind, nothing but steady — showing up in ways no one else ever had. And yet… that familiar whisper crept into your mind.
What if he doesn’t feel the same way when he’s fully awake?
What if you’re just a moment for him — something he’ll look back on and smile at before moving on?
What if you’re not enough again?
What if you’re not enough when he wakes up one day?
You hated how quickly your thoughts could spiral. How easily the doubt showed up to sit beside your hope, whispering, ‘don’t get comfortable’.
Harry stirred beneath you then, shifting slightly. You felt his hand press more firmly against your back, keeping you close.
His voice was low, thick with sleep. “Mmm, still here?”
“Still here,” you whispered, but it came out quieter than you expected — like you weren’t sure how long you were allowed to be.
He hummed softly and kissed your temple without opening his eyes. “Good.” his lips brushing your hair. “Then it wasn’t all a dream...”
You swallowed the lump in your throat and kept your cheek pressed against his chest, trying to hold onto the calm — the feeling of being wrapped up in him, protected, even if your heart felt too tender in your chest.
You pulled your head back to look at him, and the moment your eyes met his sleepy brown gaze, your heart did that annoying fluttery thing it always did around him, slowly melting those anxieties.
He looked… happy. Unfiltered. Like waking up with you was something he hadn’t quite believed would happen.
“You’re staring,” he teased gently, voice still coated in sleep.
“I’m… admiring,” you corrected with a soft smile.
He grinned. “Different?”
“Completely.”
His thumb brushed your cheek as you hovered just above him. “This is… nice.”
You tilted your head. “Nice?”
He gave you a slow smile. “I’ve never really felt I’ve done this part right. The waking up next to someone I care about part.”
Your teasing faded into something softer.
You leaned in and kissed the corner of his mouth. “You’re doing pretty well so far.”
He chuckled and let out a deep sigh, his arms wrapping around you more firmly. “You make it easy. You make me happy.”
You felt your heart squeeze, the words landing softly, deeply.
You moved up to lie beside him, looking up at the ceiling. “I still don’t think I’ve fully wrapped my head around this…”
Harry turned to his side, propping his head on one hand. “What part?”
“All of it,” you said quietly. “Waking up here. With you. Like this.”
His brow furrowed slightly, gentle concern tugging at his expression. He saw a small part of you that he saw when those walls were up — those walls he swore were all the way down, “You okay?” he kissed your shoulder ever so softly.
You nodded, hesitating. “Yeah. I just…” You searched for the right words. “Sometimes it’s hard to believe this is real. That something can be this good without… risk of it all falling apart.”
Harry didn’t speak right away. He just shifted closer, his hand finding yours beneath the blanket, fingers lacing through yours. “It’s real,” he said softly. “I’m real. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”
You turned your head to the side and looked at him, your chest tight and full all at once.
He rubbed his thumb over your knuckles and let out a quiet exhale. “Actually… there’s something I wanted to ask you.”
Your heart jumped slightly, nerves flickering to life. “Okay…”
He hesitated — just for a second, before his tone turned light and hopeful.
“My parents’ 40th anniversary is next week,” he started. “Big family trip planned.” he pulled your hand up with his and played with your fingers, getting shy and nervous. “Maldives. Everyone’s going — my siblings, all the kids, the whole circus.”
Your brows lifted. “It sounds like a lot of fun.”
He nodded, fingers intertwining with yours. “It is. They rented this little resort — very chill. Private, beachside bungalows. Honestly, it’s rare we all get together like this.”
You watched him carefully, sensing where he was going. You remembered hearing the kids whisper about it yesterday, thinking they were being sneaky.
“I want you to come,” he said finally, eyes meeting yours.
You blinked, surprised — but your heart answered before your brain could.
“Really?”
“I know it’s big,” he said quickly, laying his head down and sneaking his arm under your neck and get close to you. “And I know it’s soon. And the whole family thing is a lot, especially mine…” He let out a nervous chuckle, lightly squeezing your hand.
“But after yesterday? After the way you were with the kids and made it through chaos, bedtime stories, and pillow forts… I don’t know, it just feels right. Like, I didn’t want you not to be part of it.”
He looked at you then, voice softening. “In truth, I don’t want to leave without you by my side.”
You looked down for a second, looking at your hand in his, processing the warmth building in your chest — the part that still wanted to question why you were so wanted. But the part louder — the part that believed him — was the one that answered.
You looked at him, smiling softly. “I’d love to come.”
Relief and affection broke over his face like sunshine.
You turned your body, reached to thread your fingers through the back of his curls affectionately. “But… I don’t have a passport...”
He chuckled and pinched your chin playfully, pulling you close. “Well, let’s get you one…”
You pressed your forehead to his, grinning. “Is it really that simple?”
“With me?” he murmured. “Absolutely.”
That flutter in your chest returned — not just because of his words, but the way he said them. Like being with him could be that easy. Like loving him… might not have to hurt.
He leaned in and kissed your cheek, then your temple. “We’ll talk about it more later. There’s plenty of time.”
You nodded, nestling back into the pillows as he adjusted beside you, one hand trailing lazy paths across your bare thigh.
You both just laid there and admired each other. Memorizing eye color, making maps of each other's freckles, discovering dimples — falling in love with the little details that make each other themselves.
He hummed softly after a few moments, nudging your nose with his. “Speaking of. I was gonna make you breakfast in bed before you woke up, but someone woke up before me.”
Your brows lifted. “Really?”
“I’ve got a whole plan,” he said, shifting to sit up a little. “Coffee, eggs, something cinnamon if I can get fancy.”
“You cook?” you asked skeptically, even as you slid back slightly to let him move.
“Shockingly well,” he said, already climbing out of bed, tugging on the joggers he’d kicked off the night before. “Actually love it. It’s like meditation. But tastier.” He looked back at you and wiggled his eyebrows.
You giggled and propped yourself up on your elbows, watching him. “So I’m being spoiled?”
“You’re being courted,” he smirked, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple. “Stay here. I’ll bring you something delicious.”
He turned toward to leave the side of the bed, but before he could leave the bedside , you reached out and grabbed his wrist gently.
“Wait…”
He turned, brows lifted slightly in question.
“Five more minutes,” you said with a sleepy grin, tugging him back toward the bed. “Please?”
Harry hesitated a moment before his grin returned — wide and utterly smitten. “You’re going to be dangerous in the mornings before work, aren’t you?”
“Maybe…” you teased as you pulled him down, and he slid back into the covers with you, arms immediately wrapping around your waist again as you cuddled into him.
For a while, neither of you said anything.
You just laid there, wrapped around each other, legs tangled under the blanket, kissing slowly like the world didn’t exist outside these walls.
Eventually, you whispered against his lips, “You still planning to cook for me?”
“Eventually,” he murmured. “But you’re kind of hard to walk away from.” He cupped your cheek and leaned down to kiss along your jaw.
You smiled, curling into him. “Well that’s good to know…” You giggled, feeling his scruff tickle your neck as he leaned down a little more.
“Indeed it is,” he said, kissing your shoulder. “Because I think I’m starting to need this. You. Every morning.”
Your heart thudded again — softly this time.
After a few more minutes of lazy kisses and sleepy laughter, the two of you finally dragged yourselves from bed.
The kitchen was a warm haze of golden morning light and buttery air, soft music playing low from the speaker on the counter as you padded in barefoot, wearing one of Harry’s oversized concert tees and the faintest grin.
He was already at the stove — barefoot, shirt still rumpled from sleep, curls messy and perfect as always. The way he moved around the kitchen, flipping French toast in the pan, made it feel like you were watching something private.
He must’ve felt your eyes on him, because without turning, he smirked and said, “Careful, cariño. Keep looking at me like that, and we won’t make it to breakfast.”
You raised an eyebrow and leaned back against the island. “You can’t say that when you’re standing there looking like that. I can’t help myself…”
“Oh?,” he teased, reaching for the cinnamon. “Are you sayin’ you want me for breakfast, hermosa?”
“I wouldn’t mind a taste…” Then you hopped up onto the counter behind him. The cool marble made you shiver at first, but the way he glanced over his shoulder to look at you — his eyes dragging down your legs and back up again — made your skin warm back up instantly.
He turned the stove on low and a lid on the pan to allow the bacon and eggs to cook before he turned to the counter you were on where there was a cutting board, and started slicing strawberries.
He began to slice them like the knife was an extension of him, not needing to slow down or readjust. You watched in awe, but then you felt his hand reach for your chin gently. He turned your face toward him and leaned in, giving you a quick, sweet kiss.
Then another, this one longer.
He then pulled back and pressed one on your cheek, just to make you laugh, which you did.
You giggled as he brushed the tip of his nose against yours before going back to slicing like it hadn’t happened. “You taste sweet, baby…”
You hummed contentedly. “And you’re dangerous when you kiss me like that,” you teased.
“Hmm?” he said, licking a bit of syrup from his thumb. “Kiss you like what?” he acted innocent.
“You’re lucky you’re cute...” You tilted your head at him.
He paused for dramatic effect. “Correction: I’m lucky you think I’m cute.” He went back to the stove to tend the eggs and bacon.
You chuckled and reached over and stole a strawberry from the bowl, popping it into your mouth just as he flipped another slice of toast, quick so he didn’t see.
He moved around the kitchen to gather plates, mugs for coffee, and utensils to plate everything up. His hand slid behind your knee, squeezing lightly as he passed, another little touch that made your heart flip.
And then came the icing sugar.
He reached into the cupboard just above your head for a small scoop of icing sugar to dust over the toast.
He misjudged putting the bag back onto the shelf, and it fell, sending a soft puff of powdered sugar into the air — and directly onto you.
“Oh my goodness—!” You froze, blinking through the fine dust coating your hair and shirt.
Harry’s eyes widened, and then he burst out laughing. “Oh, shit, baby... You okay?”
You looked down at your powdered-sugar-covered lap and slowly narrowed your eyes, a giggle bubbling up. “You did that on purpose!”
“I swear I didn’t,” he grinned. “But I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t kinda adorable.”
You reached up to wipe your cheek, but he caught your hand gently and used his thumb to brush some of the sugar away instead.
“You look like a powdered donut,” he whispered, kissing the corner of your mouth. “My favorite kind.”
Your laugh turned into a squeal as he brushed more sugar onto your cheek deliberately, and you shoved him in the chest gently, playfully.
“Harry!” you giggled.
“Okay, okay,” he said, still chuckling as he leaned in to kiss the same cheek again. “Truce?”
“Truce,” you huffed, crossing your arms — even as you leaned toward him again, smiling.
He stayed close, his arms slipping around your waist as he stood between your legs, your powdered-sugar truce still hanging in the air like a secret only the two of you shared.
“You’re kind of a menace,” you murmured as you nudged his nose with your own, voice soft but full of amusement.
“And you’re kind of stuck with me now,” he replied, smiling as he moved to kiss just beneath your jaw — gently, almost absentmindedly.
You let your arms fall around his neck, your voice quieter now. “I think I could live with that.”
He pulled back just enough to look at you, a flicker of something more serious in his eyes now — tender, unguarded.
“Come on,” he said, his voice roughened just a touch. “Let’s eat before I do something stupid and we forget we made breakfast at all.”
You chuckled as he helped you down from the counter, but he didn’t let go right away. His hand lingered at your lower back as he guided you to the table where he’d already set two plates and mugs of fresh coffee.
The two of you sat — barefoot, sugar-dusted, and completely smitten — across from each other in the golden light.
And for a few still, quiet minutes, it was just soft bites of cinnamon and strawberries, toes brushing under the table, and the kind of morning that felt like the beginning of something lasting.
Reader’s POV - 3 days later
The sun had just started to dip below the skyline as you walked the last stretch toward your apartment, phone pressed to your ear, tote bag slung over your shoulder, and your heart somewhere in your throat.
“…And then the kids dragged me into this full-on Barbie war with a lava monster and a wedding all in one,” you said breathlessly, trying not to laugh too hard. “It was absolute chaos. But it was… I don’t know. Kind of perfect?”
Lila’s voice on the other end was warm and amused. “Okay, so let me get this straight. The man not only introduced you to his family’s kids after, like, what? A couple of weeks? But you survived pillow forts, lava weddings, and tickle fights... and now you’re going on an important anniversary family vacation?”
“To the Maldives,” you groaned, letting your head fall back dramatically as you waited for the crosswalk light to change. “Who even lives this kind of life?”
“The Castillo’s do, and now — so do you,” she said, completely unbothered. “This is your life now. Spicy masquerade balls and island getaways with a smart, kind, sexy, charming, family-oriented man who brings you a different kind of flower every time he sees you.”
You blushed, stepping into your building. “When you put it like that, it seems so unreal… like I’m in some dream and need to be pinched.”
“Oh, I’ll volunteer! I’ll pinch you!” she joked.
You laughed, but it faded just a little as you entered your apartment and kicked the door shut behind you.
You dropped your bag by the door and walked toward your bedroom, grabbing your suitcase from the closet.
“I’m serious, though,” you said, sitting cross-legged on the floor beside it. “It’s all been so… fast. It’s not just that he’s good to me. He’s good. Like, heart-of-gold, make-you-laugh-when-you-want-to-cry, actually-listens kind of good.”
“And that’s scary?” your sister said gently.
You nodded, even though she couldn’t see it. “Terrifying. Because I keep waiting for the catch. Like… how could someone like him want someone like me?”
There was a beat of silence on the other end before she said, “You’ve got to stop saying that.”
You ran your hand over your face, voice softening. “But what if his family thinks I’m just some— I don’t know. Some ‘nobody’. Some girl who’s trying to weasel into their rich family. What if they think I’m a gold digger, or not good enough, or—”
You stopped, eyes stinging suddenly, hands pausing over the half-zipped suitcase. That old wave of panic rose hard in your throat. Your breath hitched.
“I’m not polished. I’m not… expensive. I can’t walk into a beachside bungalow and charm a bunch of lawyers and CEOs… or whatever they are. I’m just… me.”
And there it was — the fear, sharp and familiar.
“Sweetheart,” your sister said, her voice steady now. “You’re not some accessory. You’re not some ‘plus one.’ You’re someone he chose and continues to choose every day since you’ve met.”
She softly sighed. “I’ve known Harry for a long time. He isn’t someone to bring just anyone around his family… especially those kids. He invited you because he wants you there. He doesn’t invite you to the work party, or to spend the day with his little niece and nephew because you’re a nobody. Honey — he’s inviting you to his life. You’re everything to him.”
You didn’t know what to say, you still felt that knot fester deep down.
She tsked, and her tone became somewhat sarcastic. “You think a guy like that lets his nieces and nephews fall in love with someone he’s not serious about?”
You stared at your suitcase, barely packed, your clothes still half-strewn across the bed. Your mind not picking up the sincerity in her talking points.
“But what if I get there and they look at me and just… know I don’t belong?” you muttered.
“Then you smile,” she said softly, “and remind yourself that you do belong. Harry knows you belong… and not because of what you wear or your job — but because he looks at you like you’re his whole world.”
There was a slight pause, then she chuckled, “You knocked that man out of orbit, sweetheart. And no one’s done that to him in the 8 years I’ve known him...”
Your chest felt like it might crack open. You closed your eyes, gripping the edge of your suitcase with one hand.
“Lila… I think I’m falling for him, and that absolutely terrifies me…” You whispered.
“I know,” she replied simply. “I knew before he even took you to the ball,” she shrugged.
“That late-night phone call was the spark… I saw it.” she smiled.
You let out a watery laugh, and she let you sit with that quiet for a moment, breathing through the spiral.
Eventually, she said, “You’re going to be okay.”
You nodded slowly, voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah… I think I just needed to hear it.”
“Call me when you finish packing, okay?”
“Okay.”
You hung up and set the phone down, looking at the mess of clothes on your bed — and then at the corner of your dresser, where Harry’s sunflowers still sat in their vase, soft and yellow and blooming.
‘Everything’s going to be ok…’
Harry’s POV
The dinner table was full of roasted chicken, garlic potatoes, and the unmistakable hum of family energy. Glasses clinked, stories of the last week passed back and forth, and laughter rose in waves across the room. It was comfortable, familiar — except for the knot forming in Harry’s stomach.
He hadn’t told them yet; he hadn’t mentioned it even to Simon. He needed to just get it out to everyone, all at once. Rip off the band-aid.
He waited until the plates had been cleared, until dessert had been passed — sticky fig cake and scoops of ice cream melting just a little too fast on the warm plates.
He cleared his throat in an attempt to gather everyone’s attention. “I, uh… I have something I want to tell you all...”
Everyone quieted. His mom looked up with soft curiosity, his dad with his usual patient interest. Simon was already grinning like he knew exactly where this was going.
Harry ran a hand through his curls and sat back slightly. “I invited someone to come with me to the Maldives next week.”
Simon’s grin widened. “It’s about damn time you said something.”
Harry narrowed his eyes at him. “Could’ve let me have the moment?” He lightly joked.
“I’m just excited,” Simon said, holding up his hands with a soft smile. “She’s great. And the kids adore her, haven’t stopped asking when they’ll see her next.”
His mom’s eyes lit up. “Oh, mijo, is this the same girl you mentioned last week? Y/N?”
Harry nodded, heart thumping, but steadied by her tone. “Yeah. That’s her.”
His dad leaned forward slightly, elbows on the table. “The one the little ones have been pretending is already family?” He chuckled.
Harry gave a short laugh. “That’s the one.”
His dad smiled, nodding thoughtfully. “Well. That’s good. Important that they take a liking to her.”
Simon chimed in, more serious now. “She’s the real deal, Dad. Kind, quick, funny as hell. Handled Savannah’s full Barbie monologue without blinking.”
Harry laughed, remembering. “And the lava monster. Can’t forget that.”
“She didn’t even flinch when she got tackled by both kids at once,” Simon added. “Took it like a pro.” He nudged his brother's arm gently, offering brotherly support.
“Ella suena encantadora,” (She sounds lovely) their mom said, voice warm. “I can’t wait to meet her properly.”
And then Anne spoke.
Her voice was slow, sharp at the edges. “You’re seriously bringing her? The girl you met at Ben’s wedding?”
The air changed, just slightly.
Harry looked across the table. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I?”
Anne blinked, like it was obvious. “Because this is our parents’ fortieth wedding anniversary trip, Harry. It’s not just some casual beach getaway for your little girlfriend and her bikinis to get her ‘tan on’. It’s family.”
“She’s important to me. She’s more than my ‘little girlfriend,’ she’s someone I care deeply about,” he said simply.
Anne’s nose crinkled. “You’ve only been seeing her what, a few weeks? This is all happening so fast. You barely know her.”
“Fast doesn’t mean wrong,” Harry replied, voice still calm.
Anne scoffed. “Right. And how convenient that she just happens to be single, and suddenly very available to hop on an all-expenses-paid luxury trip. Come on… sounds a lot like a—”
Harry sat up straighter, getting visibly more irritated. “Don’t.”
“I’m just saying,” she went on, undeterred. “We’ve all seen you fall headfirst before. But this? Inviting someone like that to a family event?” She looked to their parents as if expecting backup. “It’s a lot.”
Harry’s dad cleared his throat, eyes narrowing slightly. “Anne, ya es suficiente.” (That’s enough)
She blinked like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
“We raised you better than to make assumptions about someone you’ve never met,” their mom added gently, but firmly. “If Harry wants her there, she’s welcome. Fin de la historia.” (End of story)
Anne stared at them like the world had tilted.
“She’s different,” Harry said then, quieter now, but certain. “She’s not like anyone I’ve brought home before. She’s not after money or status.”
He smiled to himself as he messed with the hem of his shirt, thinking about you. ”Hell, she’s more likely to tease me for a designer label than admire it.”
Their dad let out a short chuckle. “Sounds like someone I’d like.”
“She grounds me,” Harry continued. “She’s down-to-earth, kind, smart, gentle, funny. Being with her feels… easy. Like, I don’t have to prove anything. Like I can just be.” He looked up at Anne, then looked at his parents, his eyes telling just how serious he is.
Simon nodded, offering a quiet, “It shows, hermano.”
Anne didn’t speak again, just pressed her lips into a thin line and avoided everyone’s gaze until the conversation slowly shifted.
Dessert finished, wine glasses emptied, and chairs began scraping back from the table — but Harry wasn’t done. He found Anne in the hallway a few minutes later, pulling on her coat.
He approached her, voice low. “Can I talk to you for a second?”
She sighed and turned, arms crossed. “If you’re going to yell at me—”
“I’m not,” he said. “I just want to say… I get it. I know it’s fast. I know it might look crazy from the outside. And I appreciate you worrying about me.”
She looked at him, guarded.
“But she’s different,” he said again. “I’ve never felt more sure about someone. I… I think she’s it for me.”
Anne’s eyes widened. “You’re telling me you love her already?”
He didn’t blink.
“Yeah. And what if I do?” he said. “What’s wrong with that? Dad always says, ‘Cuando es el indicado, simplemente lo sabes’ (When it’s the one, you just know.)” He exhaled. “And I know with her.”
Anne said nothing.
Harry stepped back slightly. “All I’m asking is that you try, give her a chance. I know you’ll love her.” He gave a small smile before he softly sighed.
“Just— don’t make this trip harder than it needs to be. Don’t be cruel or unkind. Because if you say something to hurt her, or embarrass her, or make her feel unwelcome…”
He narrowed his eyes slightly. “I won’t just be disappointed. I won’t forgive it.”
She looked away.
Harry didn’t wait for her to answer. He just walked back into the house where the warmth still lingered — and where he was already planning how to hold your hand on the plane, on the beach, through every moment — because this wasn’t just some fling.
This was real.
And he wasn’t going to let anyone ruin it.
The house had finally quieted. The dishes were done, the lights dimmed, and the voices of his family had faded into background memory. But Harry couldn’t settle. Not with the way Anne’s words still echoed somewhere deep in his chest.
He stepped out onto the back patio with his phone in hand, the evening breeze cool against his skin, and sat down on the wooden bench near the garden.
He just needed you.
He hit Call before he could second-guess himself. The phone rang twice before your voice picked up, soft and familiar.
“Hey, handsome.”
His shoulders eased at the sound of you. “Hi, querida.”
You smiled quietly on the other end — he could hear it in your voice. “Dinner done?”
“Yeah. Just finished.” He slumped down on the bench and looked up at the sky. “Thought I’d call.”
“I’m glad you did,” you said gently. “How was it?”
He paused. “Honestly? It went well. My mom is thrilled you’re comin’. Simon wouldn’t stop talkin’ about you. The kids have apparently already written you into the family tree.”
That pulled a quiet laugh from you. “I’ll need a framed certificate, then.”
He chuckled, but when the laughter faded, there was a longer silence.
And then you spoke again, your voice more tentative this time.
“Can I say something a little… vulnerable?”
He sat up straighter. “You can say anything.”
There was a pause before your words came out — slow, like you were still working up the nerve.
“I’m really nervous, Harry.”
His smile faded gently, not with worry, but attention. “Tell me why, mi vida.”
“I just… I don’t want to be this awkward outsider on a big family trip,” you murmured. “Like, what if they all look at me and wonder why I’m there? I’m not glamorous or polished. I don’t come from money or… or know how to sail or whatever your family probably does on these getaways.”
He bit his cheek, holding back a smile at the last bit, but the emotion in your voice kept him quiet.
“I’m not flashy. I’m not… impressive,” you said softly. “I’m kind of just… normal. A little boring, maybe. I keep thinking about your parents, your sister… what if I’m not enough for them? What if I don’t fit?”
Harry let the silence stretch for a second longer before speaking, his voice low and steady.
“You know what I told them tonight?”
You didn’t answer, but he knew you were listening.
“I told them you’re grounding,” he said. “That you’re funny, and smart, and the most genuine person I’ve had in my life in a long time. That being around you makes me feel more like… well, me — than I have in years.”
You let out a breath, shaky and small.
“I know it’s easy to spiral,” he added. “But you’re not boring. You’re not ‘just’ anything. You are enough. In every single way. You don’t have to impress anyone — especially not my family. You already have.”
“They haven’t even met me.”
“They know you through how I talk about you. And trust me, I don’t shut up.”
You gave a soft, bashful laugh, and he grinned.
“Besides,” he added, “you’re not going in cold. Simon and the kids adore you. My mom is already picking which seat to save next to you on the plane.”
“I want this to go well,” you whispered. “I want to make a good impression. I want this to matter for all the right reasons.”
“It already matters, mi vida,” he said, and his voice was so certain it made your chest tighten. “You matter. And I’m so damn lucky to have you.”
You didn’t speak for a moment, and he didn’t push. When your voice came again, it was quieter.
“Thanks for saying all that. I don’t always… believe it. But I’m trying.”
He nodded, even though you couldn’t see him. “That’s all I want. Just stay close, and we’ll figure it out… together.”
Another pause. Then, teasing: “So… did you save me any of that fig cake you’ve been goin’ on about?”
Harry let out a relieved laugh. “You’re lucky you’re my girlfriend or I’d lie and say no.”
You giggled. “Oh, only because I’m your girlfriend, huh?”
His voice dropped a little. “Yeah. Well, and I may have other reasons...”
Another silence. A little weightier now — warm, not heavy. Like something unspoken passed between you.
Then, softly: “You also saving me a seat on the plane?”
“Always,” he said. “And a spot next to me at dinner. And a side of the bed. And about a thousand kisses to make up for the ones I’m missing tonight.”
You smiled quietly. “You’re gonna have to fight me for the best side of the umbrella at the beach.”
He chuckled. “Bring it on.”
The conversation softened from there. You exchanged sleepy goodnights and sweet nothings until your voice began to slow, and you said you should get ready for bed.
“You’ll call tomorrow?” you asked softly.
“Always,” he said again. “Sleep well, cariño.”
“Goodnight, Harry.”
He waited until you hung up, just to hear that last click, then leaned back on the bench, smiling up at the stars.
Yeah… He was all in.
Even if the words hadn’t been said yet, they were on the tip of his tongue.
And when the moment was right… he knew he’d say them.
A few days later
The Uber slowed as it approached the gated entrance of the airfield — sleek, quiet, and so unlike the typical chaos of a commercial airport. You glanced out the window in confusion, brows drawing together as you took in the polished tarmac, the gleaming private jet parked not far off, and the luxury SUVs parked neatly in a small lot.
‘This can’t be right. Can it?’
The driver looked back at you with a half-smile. “This is the spot, sweetheart.”
You blinked, double-checking your phone. “I thought we were going to the airport?”
He gestured toward the jet. “Looks like you are. Just… the fancy side.” He grinned. “Flyin’ private, are ya?”
Your heart kicked in your chest. ‘You’ve got to be kiddin’ me…’
Of course Harry had mentioned the trip. He’d mentioned family, sun, sand, and a packed resort with bungalows. But this? Flying in a private jet? He left this part out.
You stepped out slowly, tugging your duffel over your shoulder, fingers tight on the handle of your roller bag. The air was cool, kissed by early morning breeze, and your breath clouded slightly in the quiet.
And then, you saw him.
Harry was near the trunk of one of the SUVs, laughing as his dad tried to get one of his mom’s oversized cases out of the back. Simon was wrangling bags as well. His mom handed Savannah a juice box and knelt down to comb little Harry’s hair back gently. It was barely 7 a.m. and already buzzing with easy, practiced chaos.
But none of that mattered, because as soon as Harry glanced up and spotted you…
He froze — then broke into a grin so wide, so bright, it made your stomach flutter.
“There she is!”
You didn’t have time to process the soft twist in your chest before he was crossing the tarmac toward you, fast and purposeful. And when he reached you, he didn’t hesitate.
He dropped your bag and pulled you into him with a soft “C’mere, carino,” wrapping his arms around your waist as you fell easily into his chest. You barely got a “Hey, you—” out before his lips were on yours.
The kiss was warm, slow, and grounding — not rushed, not over-the-top — but full of something that had been building over the past few days of missed calls, late texts, and long hours apart.
You sighed against him, melting just a little.
When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours. “Hi,” he murmured.
“Hi,” you whispered back, smiling so big your cheeks ached.
“Surprise!” he chuckled nodding toward the private jet.
“You didn’t really think I was gonna make you fly coach?” He grinned.
You laughed, swatting his chest. “You didn’t tell me we were flying private.”
“Would’ve ruined the surprise,” he said, smirking. “Besides…” He tilted his head toward the plane. “There’s even a bed on board. Thought you might want a proper nap since you had an early morning...”
You rolled your eyes, still grinning. “You’re unbelievable.”
“And yet, here you are.” he teasingly jabbed.
Before you could fire back, a small voice shouted, “Y/N!!” — and you turned just in time to see little Harry running full speed toward you, light-up sneakers thumping across the tarmac.
You barely had time to drop down lower before he launched into your arms. You caught him easily, hoisting him up with a laugh.
“Whoa! There he is!” you grinned, hugging him close. “I missed you, little man!”
“I missed you too,” he said, clinging to your neck. “Are you sitting by me on the plane?”
“I’d love to,” you said, pulling back just enough to ruffle his hair. “We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”
Harry stood a few feet away, hands in his pockets, watching you with that look again — the one he always gave you when he thought you weren’t paying attention. Full of something soft and deep.
His mum noticed too, nudging her husband as they both looked on. Simon smirked knowingly.
Harry shook his head slowly, still staring at you. “You’ve got no idea what you do to me.”
You blushed under his gaze, even as little Harry wiggled in your arms and pointed toward the jet. “There’s snacks on there! And games too!”
You laughed. “Well, that settles it. Best travel buddy ever.”
As you set him down, Harry came over and laced his fingers through yours again. “C’mon,” he said, brushing a kiss to your temple. “Let me introduce you to the rest of the chaos.”
His hand never left yours as he led you across the sun-washed tarmac. Despite the early hour, the air held a crisp brightness that sharpened every sound — Savannah squealing over snacks, luggage wheels humming over concrete as staff loaded up the plane.
And then, ahead, you saw her.
Lucia, Harry’s mom, stood in a pair of white linen pants and a lavender scarf looped loosely at her neck. She looked elegant in the effortless way some women are — like grace came built into her bones. Her eyes, however, were what struck you first: warm, sharp, deeply knowing.
She stepped forward with a smile already blooming. “You must be Y/N.”
You managed to nod before she pulled you into a soft, firm hug, motherly in a way that made your chest ache.
“It’s so wonderful to finally meet you,” she said as she pulled back, brushing a stray piece of your hair from your face in a gesture so natural and effortless it startled you.
“I— thank you,” you said with a bashful smile. “I’m so happy to be here. It’s so lovely to meet Harry’s family.”
Lucia turned slightly, glancing at Harry with a soft smirk. “Ella es preciosa. Y te mira como si fueras el único en la habitación. Ya veo por qué la miras como si fuera la indicada.”
You didn’t catch every word, but the look on Harry’s face told you enough — cheeks flushed, his jaw shifting like he was trying to stop a grin.
You squinted at him, amused. “Care to translate?”
Harry cleared his throat. “She thinks you’re pretty.”
Lucia arched a brow, then leaned in to whisper conspiratorially in your ear, “What I said was: you’re beautiful. And the way you look at my son… I see why he looks at you like you’re the one.”
You felt your breath catch slightly and your cheeks turn warm.
Lucia pulled back, smiling knowingly. “We’re so glad you came, hermosa.”
Just as you were recovering, another voice spoke up beside you.
“Rafael,” said Harry’s father, extending a hand. He was tall, with salt-and-pepper hair and a quiet steadiness to him. Harry and Simon had a likeness to him, and both possessed his calm energy.
You shook his hand, firm and warm. “It’s so nice to meet you, sir.”
“The pleasure’s ours,” Rafael said, his voice low and calm. “Harry hasn’t stopped talking about you since your sister’s wedding.”
Harry cleared his throat softly, becoming shy. “Papa...”
“I’m just saying,” Rafael said, nudging his son. “When someone brings peace back into your life, you don’t let them go unnoticed.”
You blinked at that, your chest tightening a little as the words landed deeper than you expected.
Simon approached with a smile, and after quick hugs and greetings, he gestured toward the girl standing behind him.
“And this is Lindee,” he said gently. “She’s still waking up, but she’s excited to meet you.”
Lindee gave a small wave, her oversized Taylor Swift hoodie swallowing her hands. Her sneakers shuffled against the pavement, hiding behind her dad’s leg.
You crouched to her level, letting the buzz of introductions pause for a moment. “Hi, Lindee.” You lightly tugged on her hoodie, her attention falling towards your hand. “You know, that’s my favorite album of hers...”
Her eyes lit up instantly, moving out from behind her dad.
“You like Taylor Swift?” she asked, more hopeful than surprised.
“Love her,” you grinned. “I almost wore my ‘Cruel Summer’ shirt today, but figured I should try to look a bit more professional…” You put a hand by your mouth and said quieter to be silly, “You know, meeting your grandparents and all.” You winked.
Lindee giggled. “I made friendship bracelets for the plane…”
“Okay, that officially makes you the coolest person I’ve met all week.” You smiled.
Harry watched the exchange with a soft smile — a quiet wonder in his chest he couldn’t name yet. But before he could say anything, a hand landed gently on his shoulder.
“Camina conmigo, hijo...” (Walk with me, son) Rafael murmured.
They stepped aside, leaving you still chatting with Lindee.
“She’s kind,” Rafael said, glancing back at you, then back at his son. “Easy to talk to. Grounded.”
“Yeah,” Harry said, his voice rougher than he intended. “She really is.”
Rafael nodded slowly. “She’s good for you. And you’re better with her.”
Harry swallowed and looked at the ground, then up again. “Thanks, Papa.”
“I mean it,” Rafael added. “It’s a good thing she’s coming.”
Harry nodded again, and for the first time since Anne’s words back at the house, he felt a real sense of calm settle in his chest.
When he returned to you, he found you mid-laugh with Lindee and his mom. You looked up at him with warmth in your eyes that nearly knocked the wind out of him.
He slipped an arm around your waist and murmured, “You’re fitting in a little too well.”
You smirked, resting your hand on his chest. “Isn’t that what you were hoping for?”
He grinned. “You’ve always exceeded my expectations.”
You rolled your eyes but leaned in anyway, brushing your lips against his cheek. “Lucky you, then.”
Just as the luggage was being finished and everyone was prepping to board the plane, you glanced toward Harry, then reached into your personal tote and gently pulled out a slim, carefully wrapped box.
The wrapping paper was simple — elegant gold with a white ribbon tied neatly at the center. You turned toward Lucia and Rafael, your nerves fluttering just slightly.
“I hope this isn’t overstepping,” you began softly, stepping toward them, “but I wanted to give you something. I know this trip is for your anniversary, and I didn’t want to come empty-handed.”
Lucia blinked, clearly surprised. Rafael straightened beside her.
Harry turned, hearing your words and pausing mid-sentence with Simon.
You held out the box. “It’s nothing extravagant, just something small I thought you might like.”
Lucia exchanged a glance with Rafael and took it delicately, untying the ribbon.
Inside was a hand-bound leather photo album, the cover embossed with their initials and the number “40” in small gold lettering. Inside, you’d added a few pages to start — a photo of Harry as a kid that Simon had posted recently (you’d secretly saved it), a printout of the photo from the aquarium you snuck where Harry sat by the touchpool with the two kids in his arms, and a note written on the first page:
“Here’s to forty years of love, family, and the stories still to come. Thank you for letting me be a small part of the next chapter.”
Lucia’s hand came to her heart as she smiled down at the book, tears just beginning to glisten in her eyes. Rafael ran a finger down the spine of the leather, his lips twitching into something warm and stunned.
“Oh, mi amor…” Lucia whispered, looking at Rafael, then Harry, then finally you.
She turned to Harry and said softly, her voice full of emotion, “Mira lo que ha hecho. Qué mujer tan considerada.” (Look what she’s done. What a thoughtful woman.)
Harry blinked, his throat tight. “You got them a gift?” he whispered to you, stepping closer.
You shrugged gently, cheeks flushed. “Just a small thing. I figured, if I’m going to crash their family trip, I should at least show up with a peace offering.” you lightly joked.
He laughed softly, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind and burying his face briefly in your shoulder. “You continue to amaze me…”
Lucia stepped forward and hugged you again — firmer this time. “This means the world to us, cariño.”
“It was nothing, really,” you murmured, surprised and touched by how moved she seemed.
Rafael smiled, looking to Harry. “Has encontrado uno bueno, mijo.” (You’ve found a good one)
Harry chuckled, clearly flustered and proud all at once. “Yes, I have.”
Lucia wiped her eyes and turned to Simon, showing him the album. Lindee leaned in next, already asking if she could help add things to the empty pages.
The jet hummed softly around you, the world outside reduced to a blue-white haze as clouds stretched endlessly beneath the wings. The interior was dimmed to a gentle glow — overhead lights soft, windows partially closed to lull everyone into mid-flight calm.
You’d dozed for a while, curled up next to Harry, your head tucked against his shoulder as he ran lazy fingers up and down your arm. But eventually, as the hours passed and your internal clock had no idea what time it really was, you stirred.
Harry kissed your hair. “Hungry?”
“Only if there’s more of that lemon shortbread your mom snuck into my breakfast box.”
He smirked. “I think there’s a secret stash in the galley. I’ll go check.”
He left you smiling in your seat as you stretched and looked around — most of the family asleep or reading. Simon snored faintly two rows up; Savannah sprawled over his lap. Little Harry was curled up with a tablet in oversized headphones next to Liv.
You wandered forward and found Lucia and Rafael sitting at a quiet table near the front, mugs of tea between them, a deck of cards half-played and forgotten.
Lucia looked up and waved you over. “Come sit, cariño. You must be bored of my boy by now.”
You laughed softly and eased into the open seat. “Never. But I figured I’d give him a break from being used as a pillow.”
Rafael chuckled. “He always was a cuddler. Even as a kid.”
You smiled. “He still is.”
Lucia leaned her cheek into her hand, observing you. “So tell us — what do you do when you're not making our son moon-eyed and distracted?”
You blushed, laughing. “I uhm, I work at the Ritz. I’m the manager there. I’ve been there for roughly 8 years… but I’ve worked mostly in hospitality outside of there.”
“Ah, I knew I recognized you from somewhere! I must’ve seen you when I stayed there for a conference last year,” Rafael noted, sipping his tea.
You smiled and nodded politely, “That’s likely a possibility.”
Lucia said warmly. “We’d love to know more about you — especially what you see in our boy.”
You blinked, then laughed softly as you looked down at your hands for a moment shyly. “That sounds like a trick question.”
Rafael smiled behind his teacup. “It might be.”
Lucia’s gaze softened. “We’re not interrogating you — just curious. He’s been different since meeting you. Lighter.”
You swallowed and tucked your hands in your lap, thoughtful for a moment. “Honestly, it all started pretty unexpectedly. We were paired up — best man and maid of honor at my sister’s wedding. I didn’t really think much of it at first, but... from the second we were walking down the aisle together, he wouldn’t stop making me laugh.” You blushed to yourself thinking back to that day.
You looked at them, face bright. “And after that... we just never really stopped talking.”
You smiled to yourself. “It’s like we found each other at the right time, even if we weren’t looking.”
Lucia exchanged a quiet glance with Rafael, who gave a nod of approval. She leaned in just a little. “And what do you like about him? Besides his marrón grande eyes, of course.” She lightly joked.
You laughed and glanced down shyly. “He’s... generous. In many ways… not just with items or gifts — though, I won’t lie, I love the flowers.” you looked up at them, your cheeks pink.
“Flowers?” Rafael asked.
You nodded, blushing deeper. “He gets me a new kind of flower every time we’ve seen each other...”
You bit the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from smiling too much. “When he first surprised me at work, he asked me what my favorite flower was and well — I’m not sure of what type is honestly — so he’s just made it a point to get new ones each time, try to find my favorite.” you looked down shyly and tucked your hair behind your ear.
“I’ve never had that before. That kind of steady attention. He listens. He shows up.” You looked up at them again, eyes soft, adoring.
Lucia smiled slowly, a warmth building in her expression. “That sounds like our Harry.”
“He makes me feel safe. And chosen. And I don’t think I realized how much I needed that until him.”
There was a pause, one you didn’t quite know how to fill.
Then Rafael asked gently, “And what do you want from this? From being with him?”
You blinked — surprised by the question, but not offended. If anything, it felt like a test you didn’t mind taking.
You met their eyes, your voice quiet but sure. “I want something real. I’ve had enough of things that burn out fast or fall apart. I want someone to build a life with. To laugh with when life gets messy. To be vulnerable with when I’m scared or insecure. I want a partner who chooses me on the hard days too — not just the good ones.”
You looked between them, letting the truth of it hang in the air. “I want someone to grow a life with. And I feel like I could have that with your son…”
Lucia’s lips parted slightly in surprise, her hand moving to cover Rafael’s on the table. Rafael nodded slowly, his eyes thoughtful, pleased.
“Thank you,” Lucia said softly. “For being honest.”
“Ella es buena,” (She’s a good one), Rafael said to his wife, then looked at you. “We’re glad you’re here… happy to get to know you more this week.”
After the two of them shared a couple of embarrassing stories about Harry, they stood to excuse themselves, leaving you to sit alone.
Across the aisle, you spotted Lindee sitting alone at a small table near the window, her bracelet kit open, a few colorful strands already knotted halfway.
You stood and walked over. “Need a co-designer?”
She looked up and brightened immediately. “Yes! I was trying to make one that says ‘Vacation Mode’ but I think I spelled ‘mode’ wrong.”
You sat beside her, laughing gently. “Let’s fix it. You handle the colors, I’ll do the letters.”
For a while, it was just thread, whispered jokes, and concentration. But eventually, her fingers slowed.
“Do you think I’m gonna ruin it?” she asked suddenly, voice low.
You blinked, surprised. “Ruin what?”
“The trip. The whole thing. Everyone’s being really nice and careful, but it’s like they’re all waiting for something bad to happen.” She swallowed, looking down at her hands. “After the seizure… everyone has been so nervous… so scared.”
Your heart tugged. “I’m sure that was a scary thing to have happen,” you said softly. “But not because you did anything wrong. No one’s waiting for something bad to happen. They’re just trying to take care of you, make sure you’re safe.”
She nodded slowly. “I don’t want to be the reason people miss out.”
You shifted slightly to face her. “Lindee, listen to me — this trip isn’t about perfection. It’s about family. And families show up for each other no matter what. If something happens, it won’t ruin anything. It’ll just remind everyone why being together matters.”
Lindee sniffled quietly and nodded. “Okay.”
You smiled and held up the bracelet. “Also, look at this masterpiece. You’re a creative genius!”
She grinned, wiping her cheek. “Want one that says your name?”
“I’d be honored. Can I make one that says yours?”
Unbeknownst to you, Harry had returned with shortbread in hand and paused when he spotted the two of you. Lucia stood just behind him, equally silent.
They watched as you reached over to tie the bracelet around Lindee’s wrist, brushing her hair back gently.
“She’s a good one mijo,” Lucia whispered.
Harry nodded, his throat thick. “Yeah. She really is.”
Lucia leaned close, voice even softer. “So... it’s serious, isn’t it?”
Harry glanced sideways. “Yeah. It is.”
Lucia smiled knowingly, then tilted her head. “Your brother says you think she’s the one, is that true?”
He blinked. “Yeah, I believe she is”
Lucia glanced up at him. “We asked her what she wanted from this — from being with you.”
He tensed slightly. “Mamá…” he groaned. The last thing he wanted you to feel was interrogated.
“She wasn’t rattled,” Lucia said gently. “She didn’t flinch. She said she wanted something real. Steady. That she wants someone who chooses her even when it’s hard.”
Harry’s heart pulled taut in his chest.
“She said she wants to build a life with someone. Said she feels she could have that with you, mijo.”
He exhaled shakily. “She said that?”
Lucia nodded and leaned up to kiss his cheek, then cupped it like she did when he was a child. “She loves you, mi amor. Maybe she hasn’t said it out loud yet, but she’s already living like she does.”
Harry swallowed hard, his gaze locked on you now. The way you laughed when Savannah dropped her bead tray. The way Lindee leaned on your shoulder, and you didn’t move an inch.
“Yo también la amo, mamá.” (I love her too) He said simply, surely, with zero hesitation in his voice.
He looked back at her, smiling, his eyes softening, “Robaría la luna y las estrellas para ella.” (I’d steal the moon and stars for her)
She nodded and cupped his other cheek to hold his face in her hands. “
Just by that sentence alone, she knew you were the one, and her son had found the one.
Harry smiled, hearing you giggle with Lindee, and stepped forward, dropping the shortbread onto the table between you and Lindee.
“How are my two of my favorite girls?”
You looked up and grinned. “Good.”
Lindee held up one of the bracelets in the small pile. “We made one that says ‘Uncle H’ for you!”
He chuckled, sitting down next to you. “I love it! Can I make one too?”
Lindee gleefully handed her supplies over and helped her uncle make his own Taylor Swift while the two of you educated him on the Eras of her albums.
He sat there with a twinkle in his eye and truly couldn’t be any happier.
Chapter 7
Summary:
You arrive in the Maldives with Harry and his family. Sunny beaches, beautiful, dreamy bungalows, and time with Harry? What more can a girl ask for?
Notes:
just a reminder! chapters will be every other sunday alternating ride or die !!
your feedback is very important to me, and I want to thank you for all the comments, and kudos. I secretly hope you like this story.
Chapter Text
The door creaked open with a soft whoosh, letting in the salt-sweet scent of ocean air and the faint sound of waves lapping the shore just beyond the bungalow’s shaded porch.
Harry stepped inside first, rolling both of your suitcases in behind him. You followed, your bare feet sinking into the cool, smooth wood floors, eyes wide as you took in the space — all warm neutrals and soft linens, with billowing curtains framing wide glass doors that opened to a private deck and the turquoise water beyond.
“Wow… I see why your parents chose this place,” you murmured, smiling.
Before Harry could answer, Lucia’s voice floated in from behind the still-open door.
“—and don’t forget, dinner’s at seven sharp, so you’ll want to unpack or nap before then, not after the beach,” she called sweetly.
Harry turned and braced one hand on the doorframe, head tilted toward his mom, who was still standing on the wooden walkway that connected all the bungalows. “Got it, mamá. Beach in two hours, dinner at seven. No napping after five. Bedtime snack approved. Full itinerary downloaded.” he said sarcastically.
Lucia gave him a faux-glare. “I’m serious! No desaparezcas en tu burbuja de amor.” (Don’t disappear into your love bubble)
“We won’t, Mama. We’ll be on our best behavior,” he said with a grin.
You came over and peeked around him. “We promise...”
Lucia softened immediately. “I’m just so happy you’re here, cariño. Encajas perfectamente.” (You fit in beautifully.)
You felt your cheeks warm. “Thank you, that means a lot.”
Harry gave her one last cheeky salute and nudged the door. “Okay, we’ll see you later. We love you...”
“No olvides el protector solar!” (Don’t forget sunscreen) she called just before the door finally closed.
Silence fell, thick and wonderful.
Harry let out a long breath and leaned back against the now-shut door, head thudding gently against the wood. “Finally.”
You giggled and looked at him before lightly pulling on the lapels of his shirt towards you, “I know we said we wouldn’t, but wanna desaparezcas en tu burbuja de amor?” You attempted to repeat what his mom said, not knowing exactly what it meant.
He leaned in and put his hands on your waist, pulling you close, his lips chasing yours, “Mhmm, yes please…”
He picked you up, making you giggle and lightly squeal. Your hands threading through his hair as you leaned in to kiss him — gently at first, then gradually getting more intense and passionate.
He walked you through the living room area to the bedroom, lips crashing over each others.
The soft cotton of the duvet met your back as Harry lowered you onto the bed, never breaking the kiss. The breeze stirred the curtains as his body pressed into yours, his weight grounding, his touch was everything you had been needing.
You hummed against his lips, tugging lightly on the curls at the nape of his neck. “You gonna keep kissing me like that or actually do something about it?” You teased.
He chuckled low in his throat, pulling back just enough to look down at you — eyes dark, mouth curved into a smirk. “Someone’s impatient.”
You arched a brow. “Can you blame me?”
His hands skimmed beneath your dress, rough palms sliding along your thighs. “Oh, I know you’ve missed me,” he whispered, voice going husky as his lips brushed your jaw. “I could feel it the second you hugged me at the airfield… the way your body molded to mine like it’d been starving these last few days without me.”
You tried to fire back with something clever, but the heat of his mouth on your throat stole your breath. He kissed you just below your ear, his teeth grazing the skin.
“Harry…” you gasped softly.
“Say it again,” he murmured. “Say my name…”
You whimpered his name as his fingers teased higher under the hem of your dress, brushing just beneath the lace of your underwear. His voice deepened, still low and tender but with more of that dangerous edge you rarely heard.
“I’ve been thinking about this for days,” he muttered against your skin, his hand finally cupping you through the lace. “How wet you’d be the second I got you alone.”
You gasped, fingers clenching in the fabric of his shirt as he kissed his way down your chest, nudging the neckline aside.
“I missed your mouth,” you confessed breathlessly, your thighs parting slightly under his touch.
He groaned, slipping a hand behind your thigh to hook your leg around his hip. “I missed the way you melt for me… the way you tremble.”
You grinned, blushing, tugging him up so your noses were brushing. “You talk like that much longer and you won’t get to see what I brought.”
He stilled, eyes narrowing playfully. “Oh? What’d you bring?”
You bit your lip and whispered, “New bikinis. A few dresses I know you’ll like…”
His gaze flicked to your mouth, hungry now.
“…and lingerie to match each one. But only if you behave.”
He growled — actually growled — then rolled his hips into yours. “I’m not the one misbehavin’...”
You smirked and rolled your hips along with his, watching his body tense.
He groaned, “Mmm, if you tease me like that again, I’m not letting you leave this bed until dinner.”
You let out a little gasp as he pinned your wrists gently above your head, his other hand slipping your panties to the side.
“And if I told you I don’t want to behave?” you whispered.
He smirked, dragging his lips back down your body, voice low and certain. “Then I’ll have to remind you exactly who you’re misbehaving for.”
Your breath caught as his mouth found the inside of your thigh. Slowly dragging kisses against your skin — the kind that made your back arch even before he touched where you needed him most.
He looked up at you, curls falling over his forehead, lips already swollen from kissing you senseless.
“I’ve missed having you like this,” he murmured, voice gravelled with desire. “All spread out for me… already so wet.”
You whimpered as his tongue finally traced a path through your folds, slow and deliberate. He groaned softly at the taste of you, hands holding your thighs open, grounding you with the pressure of his grip.
“Fuck, baby… you taste like you’ve been thinking about this too.”
“I have,” you gasped, your fingers slipping into his hair as his mouth worked you expertly. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you all weekend…”
He moaned into you, tongue flicking in circles that made your thighs tremble.
Your hips bucked, but he held you down, his voice muffled but firm, “Mmm, not yet, baby. I’m not done with you.”
You were already close — embarrassingly fast and he knew it — he loved it.
He pulled back just before you tipped over, lips wet, jaw flushed, and looked up at you.
“Turn over,” he whispered, breath heavy.
Your chest heaved as you obeyed, flipping to your stomach slowly, feeling the cool air hit your damp thighs. He sat up and pressed a kiss between your shoulder blades and leaned down, dragging his fingers up your spine.
“God, look at you…” he groaned. “You’ve got no idea what you do to me.” He said as he lifted your hips up to place a pillow under you, propping you at the perfect angle.
You felt him shift behind you, his hand guiding himself as he lined up and slowly pushed inside you from behind — deep and steady, both of you moaning as your bodies finally fit together again.
His hand gripped your hip, the other bracing near your shoulder as he thrust into you with a rhythm that was firm, sure, and unhurried.
“I’ve wanted to take you like this since that night at the ball,” he muttered, voice hot against your ear as he leaned over you. “Dress hiked up, legs shaking on that table… you look so fucking good when you’re wrecked and proud of it.”
You gasped at the memory of the pool table, your body clenching around him.
“You’re mine,” he breathed.
“I’m yours,” you whimpered.
“Say it again,” he groaned.
“I’m yours, Harry—please…” you mewled.
“Good girl,” he growled, his hand slipping between your legs to circle your clit with practiced strokes. “Now come for me. Let go. I’ve got you.”
Your vision blurred as everything rapidly unraveled — heat crashing over you, your cries muffled in the pillow you laid your head on, body shaking as he rode you through your climax, whispering how good you felt, how perfect you were.
Moments later, with a strangled moan, he buried himself deep and came with a shudder, breath stuttering against your back as he collapsed gently over you.
Silence stretched between the soft drag of your breathing, your bare skin hot and damp, bodies tangled together in the warm golden light that filtered in through the curtains.
Harry nuzzled into your neck, still catching his breath, his voice low and gravel, “Fuck… we’re not gonna make it to the beach are we?”
You giggled breathlessly, moving to lie down on your back, easing him off to lie next to you. “Perhaps not.”
He turned on his side and kissed your shoulder, then your cheek, and finally your lips — slower this time. Sweeter.
“I missed you,” he murmured.
You smiled, brushing your thumb along his jaw. “I missed you, too.”
He pulled you close, wrapping you in his arms, and for a long moment neither of you moved — just breathing each other in.
Finally, he whispered against your temple, “Did you say a lingerie set to match each outfit?”
You smirked. “I did...”
His soft laugh vibrated through you. “Fuck, I’m in trouble...”
The walk down to the beach was short, but it felt like stepping into a dream. The late afternoon sun painted the water in golden streaks, the waves lapping gently against the shore. The air was thick with salt and something slow and easy — vacation energy, the kind that makes every breath feel deeper, every touch more electric.
Harry’s hand gripped yours loosely as you followed the path of wooden planks through swaying palms, his thumb brushing your knuckles.
He wore red swim trunks that were low on his hips, his bare chest catching the light, skin already kissed with a beautiful olive tone — one that made him already look sun–kissed. His curls were messy from the breeze and slight humidity, and a pair of light brown aviators sat perched on the bridge of his nose.
You couldn’t stop staring as you walked side by side.
“You’re drooling,” he murmured without looking at you.
You bit your lip and looked forward, trying not to grin. “I am not.”
He turned slightly, a grin tugging at his mouth. “Then what’s that look?”
You turned your head back and gave him a long once-over, making sure he saw. “Can’t a girl swoon over her hot boyfriend? Plus, it should be illegal for you to look that good in sunglasses and swim trunks…”
He laughed. “You’re the one in that bikini.”
The red suit clung to your curves just right — minimal, flattering, tied at the hips and behind your neck, a gold dainty chain hung around your waist to add a little bit more. All of it was covered only slightly by a sheer black wrap that floated as you walked. You gave him a look over your sunglasses. “Bought them with the intention of us having matching sets. Plus it’s hot.”
“Oh, I know,” he muttered. “You in that thing… It’s going to be the death of me today.”
You leaned into him, voice low, “That’s the point, handsome...” then pecked his cheek.
Harry groaned under his breath, muttering something about suffering in silence as you reached the stretch of beach where the family had already set up their towels, umbrellas, chairs, and snacks. Rafael waved, beer in hand, while Lucia called out, “Did you grab sunscreen, mijo?”
Harry saluted her lazily, but as you dropped your bag and started spreading out your towel, he leaned down to whisper, “No promises that I’ll behave today.”
You tilted your head. “Not even if I said I brought another bikini for tomorrow? A smaller one?”
His eyes flared. “You’re evil.”
You smirked. “You love it.”
You spread out the towel and settled beside him, pulling a paperback from your bag. He followed suit, grabbing the book you’d mentioned to him weeks ago and hadn’t expected him to actually bring, let alone read it.
After a few minutes, the beach faded around you, books in hand, shoulders brushing. Every few minutes, Harry’s hand would shift — to your thigh, your knee, the inside of your wrist. Sometimes he’d lean over and kiss your shoulder without a word. There was something oddly romantic about sitting side by side in matching red, legs tangled slightly beneath the shade, fingers occasionally brushing, both of you reading in peaceful silence.
At one point, Harry reached for your hand and kissed the back of it without looking up from his book. You didn’t say anything. You didn’t have to. That little gesture lit that soft, flickering warmth in your chest.
“Want me to reapply your sunscreen?” he asked innocently as he closed his book.
You raised a brow. “Do you even have sunscreen on yourself?” you teased.
“I’ll survive.” he leaned over and kissed your cheek.
You turned slightly and untied the sheer cover-up from around your waist, baring your back as you tossed your hair over one shoulder. “Try to keep it PG, Castillo.”
“Impossible, mi amor.” he moved to sit behind you, gently kissing your cheek.
His hands were warm and careful as he rubbed the lotion into your back, but you could feel the shift in him — the restraint. His fingers lingered on your lower back a beat too long. When he leaned forward to kiss your shoulder, you felt him smile against your skin.
“Mmm, you’re doing this on purpose,” he murmured.
“Doing what?” you looked over your shoulder at him.
“Looking like that. Smelling like coconut. Moaning every time I touch you.”
“I am not,” you gasped, laughing.
“You are,” he whispered, nosing your neck. “You’re killin’ me.”
You turned more, meeting his eyes over your shoulder. “Then suffer, handsome.” You teased.
Harry sat back, jaw clenched playfully. “You’re going to regret that later.”
“I’m counting on it.”
Before he could respond, Savannah came sprinting over. “Uncle Harry! Come swim! You promised!”
He stood, brushing the sand off his thighs with a groan. “You’re lucky I love them and keep my promises.”
You winked. “I’m lucky you look that good...” you sat back on your hands and trailed your eyes down his body slowly.
His cheeks bloomed light pink, and he playfully threw a towel at you, making you squeal and duck, then jogged off toward the waves.
You laid back down, watching him splash into the water with Savannah and little Harry clinging to each arm. He ducked beneath the surface, lifting them above the waves as they shrieked with laughter.
The three of them were in their own little world, completely wrapped up in the joy and fun of each other.
You went back to reading for a few more pages before you heard the kids squeal as they ran to their dad who was sitting with Lindee making a sand castle.
You looked up from your book to find Harry and that’s when the breath was stolen from your lungs, your heart started racing and a warmth bloomed straight between your thighs at the sight in front of you.
You tossed your book aside and moved to sit up on your elbows, your sunglasses sitting at the bottom of your nose to get a better look as he walked out of the sea in what felt like slow motion.
Soaked. Hair dripping. Sunglasses pushed up on his head. Water sliding down every inch of toned, sun-drenched muscle.
Your mouth may have dropped open, followed by a small, quiet groan.
Liv, reclining nearby, glanced at you and smiled knowingly. “The Castillo boys always know how to draw attention.”
You grinned, cheeks flushed. “Oh, he knows exactly what he’s doing.”
She chuckled, eyes on her husband. “They don’t show off for just anyone...”
As Harry reached you, toweling off his hair, yourself to sit up, looking up at him with a dangerous glint in your eye.
“If you strut out of the water like that again, I’m going to be forced to start a scandal on this beach.”
He smirked, looking down at you. “What kind of scandal?”
“The kind where I forget we’re surrounded by your entire family and jump you right here.”
He leaned down and kissed you — just a brush of lips, playful and quick. “Tempting me’s going to backfire, cariño.”
You rolled onto your side, brushing sand from your thigh. “If it hasn’t already, you’re not paying attention.”
He looked like he might actually explode.
“Jesus, I’m not going to survive this trip,” he muttered.
You laughed and handed him a water bottle, your cleavage accentuating.
He shook his head, eyes glinting, knowing exactly what you were doing. “Lo juro por Dios, baby…” He said, grabbing the bottle and chugging half of it.
And even as the kids screamed and splashed and conversations drifted all around, the two of you stayed in your little bubble — sun-warmed skin, flirtation, and enjoying each other's company.
The sun had dipped just below the horizon as you and Harry walked up the gentle slope to the outdoor dining terrace, hand-in-hand, the sea breeze tugging lightly at your light blue sundress. Lanterns flickered along the railings, casting golden halos over the family already gathered around the long table under twinkling lights.
Harry leaned in as you approached. “You doin’ okay?”
You nodded, lips curved gently. “You’re right here, right?”
He smiled and squeezed your hand. “Always.”
You leaned your head against his arm for a moment, “Then I’m perfect.”
As you approached the dining table, Lucia was seated at the far end, already deep in conversation with Simon and Rafael, but when she saw the two of you approaching, she lit up. “¡Finalmente! We were about to send someone to find you.”
Before you could sit, a new voice piped in from your left.
“Well, well… so this must be the famous girlfriend.”
You turned toward the sound, and there she was — Anne.
You’d seen pictures of her before, but there she was, in the flesh. She looked like the kind of woman who never had to try hard to turn heads — polished, put together, luscious dark brown hair swept into a bun, not one strand out of place. Her gorgeous light brown eyes were already scanning you. She dressed in head-to-toe name brand, even her makeup you assumed was a luxury brand. She was everything you expected and yet more.
She stood to greet you with a tight smile, flanked by her husband, Spencer. He was tall, kind-eyed, with a quiet steadiness along with their two kids: Anthony, already digging into the bread basket, and Esmerelda, a tiny bundle of curls clinging to her father’s neck, babbling.
Before Harry could speak, Anne offered her hand.
“It’s so nice to meet you, Rebecca, right?”
You blinked — just once — and smiled softly, your fingers sliding into hers with a polite shake. “Actually, it’s Y/N” you said lightly, letting out a small laugh. “You must be Anne...”
Anne didn’t flinch, only raised an eyebrow slightly. “Oops. My mistake…”
Harry cleared his throat beside you, giving her a clear warning, but you gave his hand a subtle squeeze, silently telling him not to make a thing of it.
“It happens,” you said easily. “Happens all the time at the hotel, actually. I’ve answered to everything, from Emily to Bianca.” You lightly chuckled.
Spencer chuckled under his breath and offered you a genuine smile. “Well, Y/N, it’s so nice to meet you. I’ve heard the kids haven’t stopped talking about you since the aquarium…”
You greeted him warmly and waved at the little one perched on his hip, gently tickling the bottom of her foot, making her giggle.
Harry kissed your temple and stuck by you, introducing you to Anthony as well.
Anne slinked away, and you did the same after speaking to her husband for a few more moments.
You sat down beside Harry as everyone gathered to start eating. For a few minutes, things settled — food started arriving by the wait staff, drinks passed, and the hum of overlapping conversations filled the space.
That was until Anne leaned forward, spearing a piece of grilled pineapple with her fork.
“So, Y/N… what is it that you do again? I can’t remember if you’d said...”
You swallowed your sip of water and smiled. “I’m a hotel manager at the Ritz. I’ve been running operations there for about 8 years — it’s a lot of moving gears, but I love it.”
“Ah,” Anne said, with a soft southern lilt and a sugary smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “So you’re just in hospitality. That must be… exhausting. Dealing with people all day?”
You tilted your head just slightly, reading between every single word.
Harry sat forward and clenched his jaw, making eye contact with her, “She’s not just in hospitality, she’s one of the best.”
You put your hand on his and softly cleared your throat to refocus her onto you.
“It can be,” you said, still smiling, “but I enjoy taking care of people. Ensuring they feel welcomed and looked after. I’ve met some of the kindest people — and the most complicated ones too. But I like the challenge either way.”
Anne sipped her wine, keeping her eyes on you. “Sounds like you must have a lot of patience.”
You met her gaze evenly. “I do. Especially with people who come in assuming they know more than I do.”
Harry let out a quiet cough beside you, like he might choke on his water.
You kept your tone gentle, unbothered. “Turns out patience and empathy go a long way. Most people just want to feel seen.”
There was a pause — not long, but just long enough — before Spencer jumped in, clearing his throat to ease the tension.
“I’d love to hear how you two met,” he said, glancing between you and Harry. “From your side, Y/N. We’ve only heard Harry’s version about a million times,” he joked.
The rest of the table lightly chuckled, and Harry smiled, clearly pleased at the redirect. “Go ahead, mi vida,” he murmured, nudging your knee under the table, moving his hand to rest on the small of your back.
You gave a small laugh, leaning forward in your seat, eyes drifting to him before meeting Spencer’s.
“Well,” you began, “We met at my sister’s wedding. She married Harry’s best friend, so we were paired up as best man and maid of honor to walk down the aisle together.” You smiled softly. “First time I saw him, he was the one to direct me to where the florist was. He won’t say this, but I think I looked like a bat out of hell running around looking for them…”
The table chuckled. Even Anne cracked a reluctant smile.
“And?” Spencer asked, eyes gleaming.
“And,” you said slowly, smiling at the memory, “After a night of me trying to avoid his big brown eyes and charm… he finally got me cornered and asked me to dance — and didn’t allow my excuse that I didn’t know how to dance slide. Isn’t that right?” You looked back at Harry with a loving smile.
Everyone laughed at that.
Harry hummed softly. “I knew one dance would crack ya open to the idea of me…”
You leaned into him just a little. “Well, it worked as we danced at least once more that night, in the…” You suddenly couldn’t remember what it was called.
“In the vineyard,” he finished, taking your hand in his, then bringing it to his lips to kiss your knuckles.
You found his eyes and nodded, gently squeezing his hand, “That’s right, the vineyard.”
It was like it was just you two for a moment. He rubbed your knuckles with his thumb gently, as he lightly chuckled. “I found you out there all sad and mopey after that idiot said somethin’ to dim your light at the bar.”
You nodded and turned him more, “That’s right! Diego…” you tsked.
His eyes were nothing short of warm and filled with pure adoration as he watched you reminisce about that part of your relationship, mentioning the jacket of his that drowned you down to the song that played while you two danced together.
After the table shared a small chuckle at Harry mentioning how you practically fell into his arms when you both stumbled over each other’s feet, you glanced at Lucia and Rafael — who were both watching you with quiet pride.
“To be honest,” you continued, “I didn’t expect it to turn into anything. But Harry… he’s persistent. And kind. He continued showing up. He’s even gone to the lengths of showing up with a different bouquet every time we see each other. All just to figure out which flower is my favorite.”
You looked back at him and blushed. “No one’s ever done anything like that for me before.”
Harry leaned over and gently kissed your cheek before vowing in front of anyone, “I’d give you the world: the moon, the stars — anything you ask, it’s yours, mi vida.”
You couldn’t help the smile and blush on your face as you looked down shyly.
“I didn’t know that you did that with the flowers, Harry…” Liv said softly, clearly touched before looking at Simon — who just nodded and smiled knowingly at how his brother was with you.
You looked up at the table, lacing your fingers with his under the table. “It’s told me everything I needed to know about who he is.”
Rafael stood and smiled as he raised his glass. “To showing up — and to flowers! It’s now clear that Simon, Spencer, and I need to learn a lesson or two from Harry on how to treat our women.”
Glasses clinked, and everyone chuckled at that.
After a few moments and the conversation switching, you could feel Harry’s thumb brush over your hand, and when you looked at him, the affection in his eyes told you everything else you needed to know:
You handled that perfectly.
After a night of delicious food, laughter, and sharing memories of past family trips — the music drifted across the sand. A light laughter mixed with the low thump of bass as a few couples — including Spencer and Lucia — swayed near the glowing bar setup under a canopy of string lights. You sat for a moment alone at the edge of the long table, watching Harry jog off toward the path back to the bungalows.
“Just grabbing your sweater, I’d gettin’ cold out here…” he’d said, brushing a kiss to your forehead. “Be back in five.”
Your eyes scanned the terrace, looking for a place to sit where you wouldn’t be awkwardly loitering. That’s when you spotted Anne, sitting a few seats away with little Esmerelda in her lap, holding a spoon and gently feeding her bites of mango sorbet while murmuring soft encouragements to her with each bite.
No one else was nearby, no distractions, no sharp edges. Just a mother and her daughter in the warm hush of evening.
You stood slowly and walked over, heart fluttering with quiet nerves.
“Hey,” you said gently, stopping beside her. “Mind if I sit for a second?”
Anne looked up, surprised — not cold, just wary. But then she nodded toward the chair beside her. “Sure.”
You sat, folding your hands in your lap, glancing down at Esmerelda as she wiggled in Anne’s arms and reached for another bite.
“She’s got the family eyelashes,” you said softly, nodding toward the little girl. “Like Harry’s.”
Anne blinked, caught off guard again, then smiled. “She does. Got my husband’s temper, though.”
You both laughed — a real one, not a forced one.
“She’s beautiful,” you said honestly. “I can tell she’s very loved.”
Anne nodded slowly, tucking a loose curl behind Esmerelda’s ear. “She is.”
For a moment, the only sound was the waves and the soft clatter of a spoon in a ceramic bowl.
“I wanted to say…” You exhaled. “I know we got off to a weird start.”
Anne’s lips pressed together, her gaze unreadable. But she didn’t speak. So you continued.
“I know I’m… new. And I know how much Harry means to you. I can see that — how close you are with him. I’d be protective too.”
Anne’s posture didn’t soften exactly, but it shifted — like a thread had been loosened in the invisible tension between you.
“I’ve got a sister,” you added, “and I’d take anyone’s head off if they hurt her.”
Anne looked at you then — really looked at you. You let the words linger before finishing softly, “But I also know what it means to support someone you love by trusting who they choose.”
There was a pause. Then Anne’s voice came low, honest. “He’s been through a lot. He doesn’t talk about it, but I know. I’ve seen what certain relationships took out of him.”
You nodded slowly. “I’m not here to take anything from him.”
Anne looked down at Esmerelda, then back at you.
“He said you don’t want anything from him except who he is,” she said, surprising you. “Said you make him feel like he can breathe again.”
Your throat tightened. “He said that?”
She nodded once. “So… If that’s really true, then I want to know you better. For his sake.”
Your chest eased slightly, your hands unclenching in your lap.
“I’d like that,” you said quietly.
Anne hesitated. Then she glanced across the terrace toward Lucia, who was mid-laugh at something Simon said.
“Lucia, Liv, and I are doing the spa day on Thursday,” Anne said. “You should come. Girls’ thing. Low-key. No weird vibes.”
You smiled, warmth blooming across your chest. “I’d love to.”
Just then, Esmerelda let out a squeaky giggle, kicking her feet against Anne’s legs as she reached for the last bite.
Anne chuckled. “She’s just a little spoiled, can you tell?”
“She’s two,” you grinned. “Spoiled is in the job description.”
You both laughed again, not as strangers this time.
Harry’s POV
He reached the edge of the terrace again, sweater slung over one arm, the breeze just beginning to cool the back of his neck. He scanned for you first, automatically, eyes landing on you. Sitting next to Anne. Talking. Smiling. Laughing?
Harry stopped in his tracks.
It wasn’t tense or awkward — in fact, Anne looked more at ease than she had all evening. Her body was turned slightly toward you, and Esmerelda was wiggling on her lap, sticky with mango sorbet as you leaned in to help clean her little face with a napkin, gently teasing her in a high voice that made the toddler giggle.
Anne… smiled as she watched you with her daughter. And not the fake polite kind she always had on standby, it was genuine and warm.
Harry’s chest filled with something slow and quiet — awe, maybe? Gratitude. A soft ache in his ribs, realizing you’d gone out of your way to find common ground with the person who, hours ago, barely gave you a chance.
He walked back toward the table, steps quiet, not wanting to interrupt. He stopped a few feet away, just watching for a moment — the two most guarded women in his life, sitting together, finding a way through.
You looked up, sensing him before you saw him, and smiled — that warm, private smile that made everything else fall away.
He stepped forward and set the sweater gently on your shoulders, hands brushing your skin.
“Miss me?” he murmured in your ear.
“Always,” you whispered back.
Anne didn’t say anything, but when she met Harry’s eyes, she gave a small nod. Just enough to say: I see it now.
The moonlight bathed the shoreline in silver, the waves gentle as they rolled across the sand with rhythmic ease. The warm glow from the resort’s outdoor terrace faded behind you as you and Harry strolled along the quiet stretch of beach, your shoes in hand, his other hand laced tightly with yours.
Dinner had ended with laughter, dessert, and full hearts. The way his thumb was brushing yours as you walked told you he wasn’t ready to call the night over just yet.
“Tonight felt… big,” you murmured softly, breaking the comfortable silence.
Harry looked over at you, his profile lit by moonlight. “Yeah?”
You nodded. “Meeting your sister. Holding my own. Watching your family — they’re so loud and loving. It’s a lot. But in a good way.”
He smiled faintly, bumping his shoulder against yours. “They’re definitely a lot.”
“I can see where you get it from,” you teased.
“Oh?” he asked, smirking. “My charming wit? My devastating good looks?”
You grinned. “I was going to say your sarcasm.”
He chuckled, then quieted for a moment, his tone softening. “You were incredible tonight. I know Anne can be… a lot.”
You didn’t respond right away, letting the sound of the waves fill the space between you.
“I could tell she was testing me,” you finally said. “But I also get it. She loves you. She doesn’t want to see you hurt.”
“She has a way of hiding a dagger in a smile,” he muttered, squeezing your hand. “But you saw through it. And the way you handled it — it meant a lot. To me. To my mom. Even my dad pulled me aside after dinner and told me that you were ‘someone he could see being a part of the family.’” He paused. “He doesn’t say things like that often.”
You felt your chest warm, a quiet kind of glow spreading across your ribs. “He was sweet. And your mom? She hugged me more times than I think my own mother has in the last year.”
“That’s her version of a royal decree,” he joked.
You laughed, and he stopped walking, tugging you gently toward him so you faced him.
Up ahead, where the beach curved around a bend, you could hear soft music drifting from the open-air bar of another resort — faint piano notes and a voice you instantly recognized.
Frank Sinatra’s smooth croon melted into the night air, nostalgic and romantic:
“Some day… when I’m awfully low… when the world is cold… I will feel a glow just thinking of you… and the way you look tonight.”
Harry’s lips twitched into a grin. “They’re playing our song...”
“Oh, I didn’t know we had a song?” you asked, tilting your head.
“Just decided,” he said, reaching for your waist. “Dance with me?”
You hesitated, only for a second, before nodding and dropping your shoes to the sand. “Always.”
He pulled you close, your bodies fitting easily together in the moonlight. You looped your arms around his neck, his hands resting low on your back. The music carried gently over the sand as he swayed with you — slow, steady.
Then he began to sing — softly, just for you.
“Lovely… never ever change… keep that breathless charm. Won’t you please arrange it? ’Cause I love you… just the way you look… tonight.”
His voice wasn’t perfect — a little raspy, a little too quiet — but it made your heart ache in the best way. Because it was real. Unfiltered. Utterly sincere.
You leaned your forehead against his, smiling through it.
“And that laugh that wrinkles your nose… It touches my foolish heart. Lovely, don't you ever change… Keep that breathless charm. Won't you please arrange it? 'Cause I love you… A-just the way you look tonight.”
He took a small step back and spun you gently under his arm, your hair catching the breeze as you laughed, then pulled you close again, holding you tightly to his chest, forehead gently touching yours.
His voice dropped, deep and reverent after a few moments.
“I love you.”
Your feet stilled slowly as you began to register what he’d said.
The world slowed. The tide, the stars, your breath — everything paused.
He didn’t pull back. He just held you tighter, as if the words had been pressing at the walls of his chest for weeks, and now that they were out, he didn’t want to take them back.
“I love you,” he said again, quieter. “I don’t know when it happened. Maybe somewhere between watching you with Savannah and having breakfast with my mum. Or maybe back in that kitchen at Lila’s wedding. But I know it now. I feel it.”
You pulled back just enough to look at him fully, and he let you.
Your hands came to frame his face, and when you smiled, it was soft and sure and entirely his.
“I love you, too,” you whispered. “It scares the hell out of me… but I do.”
His eyes searched yours, something deep and unguarded flickering in his gaze. “I’ve been scared too.”
You nodded. “But I’m not anymore.”
He rested his forehead against yours, closing his eyes as you both still gently swayed together again. “I’ve been wanting to say it,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. “Since that night, we had the kids over… I almost said it then.”
You laughed gently, your fingers brushing through his hair. “You kind of did. In your sleep.”
His eyes opened, and he pulled back to look at you, surprised. “I did?”
You nodded, smiling. “You called me ‘my love.’ Thought maybe you were dreaming...”
Harry chuckled, shaking his head. “Wasn’t dreaming. I just didn’t know how to say it when I was awake.”
“Well,” you said, lifting your lips to kiss his softly, “now you do.”
He kissed you — slow, tender, the kind of kiss that spoke of promises without words.
The music faded behind you, the only sound left was the sea, the wind, and the two of you — tangled together under a canopy of stars, hearts bare and open.
“Let’s stay like this for a little longer,” you murmured against his lips, smiling.
Harry rested his forehead against yours, smiling.
“Nowhere else I’d rather be, my love.”
By the time the door to your private bungalow clicked shut behind you, the air had shifted entirely.
Gone was the teasing, the light flirtation of the day that happened this morning. What replaced it was something deeper. Heavier. Richer.
Harry turned the lock, then turned to you — his expression unreadable at first, except for the fact that his eyes were fixed on you like he couldn’t believe he was lucky enough for you to be his.
You didn’t say anything — you never had to.
You stepped toward him slowly, and he met you halfway, his hands automatically cupping your face, his mouth meeting yours in a kiss that started soft — reverent — but deepened in a breath.
It wasn’t rushed, not at all. It was hungry in a different way — devotional, like he wanted to memorize how it felt to love you like this, now that he’d said it out loud.
Your fingers slid into his hair as his hands moved — down your sides, across your back, curling into the soft fabric of your dress. He pulled away just long enough to whisper, breath hot against your mouth, “I’ve been wanting you all night…”
You smiled, brushing your lips across his jaw. “Thought we agreed you’re the one who looked illegal today.”
He let you lift his shirt over his head, his hands instantly returning to you — palms skimming your waist, up your ribs, reverent like he was still in awe he was allowed to touch you like this.
Harry’s hands skimmed your hips as your dress slipped off, but something made him pause — his breath catching the moment he saw what was underneath.
“Fuck…” he whispered.
You stood there for a moment in matching pale blue lace — delicate and sheer, hugging your curves like it had been sewn directly onto your skin. The straps were thin, the cups soft and just daring enough to leave little to the imagination. The panties dipped low on your hips, the lace trim matching the soft blue of your dress perfectly.
His eyes dragged over every inch, slow and reverent.
“You weren’t kidding…” he rasped, thumb brushing lightly over the line of lace at your hip, “All of this is for me?”
You gave a coy smile, stepping in between his legs as you gently pushed him to sit on the edge of the bed. “I told you… a different one for every dress.”
His mouth quirked, but his eyes were dark. “You tryin’ to kill me on this trip?”
“I like keeping you on your toes,” you said innocently.
Harry’s hands slid up your thighs, thumbs grazing the crease where your legs met the lace. “This color…” he muttered, lips brushing the underside of your breast as he kissed his way up your ribs. “This body… mi cielo, I worship you.”
You blinked — stunned and turned on in equal measure. “Worship me?”
“Oh yes baby,” he muttered, eyes dragging down your body again as he stood, gently pinching your chin in his grasp before his eyes found yours. “You wore this for me, right? Let me show you what that earns you.”
He kissed you then — all tongue and heat and hungry intent. A careful burn that stoked between every pass of your mouths, every warm breath that mingled, every quiet gasp that built as he walked you backward toward the bed.
He didn’t rush. He didn’t fumble. He took his time. Every movement was deliberate, made with intention.
By the time your back hit the bed, you were aching for him — your heart and your body entirely in sync in a way that felt almost too much. But he didn’t let it become overwhelming. He soothed and steadied — kissing your collarbone, your ribs, whispering things that made your whole body ache in the best way.
“You’re everything,” he murmured against your skin, hands sliding down your thighs. “Don’t even know if I deserve to love you like this.”
You cupped his cheek, voice barely a breath. “You do, you always will.”
He leaned forward and captured your lips. You two kissed like it was something you’d both spent years waiting for. And when he finally sank into you, it wasn’t rushed or frenzied — it was slow, deep, full.
You softly moaned against his lips, arching up against his chest, “Harry…”
Harry moved inside you slowly — deeply — his body completely aligned with yours like he couldn’t bear a single inch of distance. Your fingers threaded through his curls, your other hand splayed over his shoulder blade, holding him close. And he let himself be held, let himself melt into you.
He kissed your cheek. Your jaw. The side of your mouth. “You feel like home,” he whispered, his voice raw, his rhythm never faltering. “Every part of you, cariño.”
You cupped his face, eyes glassy but steady. “I never thought I’d feel this safe with someone… and then you happened...”
His hand caught yours against the pillow, intertwining your fingers as his hips rolled deeper. “I want you to know,” he murmured, lips brushing your temple, “I’m never going anywhere. Not unless you send me away.”
You swallowed against the lump in your throat. “Don’t joke like that.”
“I’m not,” he whispered. “This is it for me. You’re the one I’m spending the rest of my life with.”
The way he said it — low and reverent, like a vow — made your heart ache and your body shudder.
Your legs wrapped tighter around him as your hips tilted up to meet his rhythm. “Then stay. Promise me you’ll stay through it all.”
He slowed for a moment, just to still his body against yours. His forehead pressed to yours, noses brushing.
“I promise,” he said. “When things are messy, hard, complicated. When you spiral and forget how loved you are — I’ll remind you. I’ll stay. I’ll always choose you.”
There was a quiet moment between the two of you before he cupped your cheek and lifted your head a touch to meet your lips, kissing you deeply.
A soft whimper escaped you as you lifted your hips again, guiding him deeper, your body clinging to his with a kind of desperate need that wasn’t lust — it was love. Love, aching and vast and finally spoken aloud.
Your eyebrows pinched in ecstasy as you pulled back for a moment, whispering, “Say it again,”
He kissed you hard — deeply — like he could push the words into your skin. “I love you.”
You whimpered at the sound, at the truth of it. “I love you.”
His rhythm picked up slightly, each stroke purposeful, controlled. You gasped as he shifted the angle, your back arching beneath him as his hand moved down, steadying your hip while his mouth moved and brushed across your shoulder.
“You’re everything I never knew I needed,” he whispered into your skin. “I didn’t even believe in this before you. Now all I want is you — every version of you. The soft parts. The loud parts. The scared parts.”
“I want to give them to you,” you breathed, your voice catching as pleasure began to pool low in your belly. “I want to give you everything.”
“You already have,” he murmured.
You pressed your forehead into his neck, moaning softly as his thrusts grew more intense — not rushed, but deeply felt, every motion like it was made to prove a point.
And the words didn’t stop.
“You’re perfect,” he breathed.
“God, you feel so good,” you whimpered. “Don’t stop,” you pleaded.
He continued, “I think about you constantly. Sueño contigo. Te anhelo.” (I dream about you. I crave you.)
“Te anhelo…” You repeated as a whisper, gasping as you tipped toward the edge.
“I’ve got you,” he said, his voice strained, his hand tightening on your hip. “Just let go, baby. Let go for me.”
And you did — with a cry and a quake that shook through your entire body. The world fractured around you, pleasure cresting and crashing like the waves outside, sharp and all-consuming.
Harry followed, moaning your name as he buried himself as deep as he could go, every muscle in his body tensing as he spilled into you, whispering against your skin, “I love you, I love you, I love you…”
When the tremors faded and you lay tangled together, breathless and undone, he never let you go.
He pressed kiss after kiss to your damp skin — your shoulder, your neck, the tip of your nose — whispering sweet nothings through the fog.
Eventually, you found yourself curled into his side, your fingers tracing lazy shapes across his chest.
Neither of you spoke at first. The silence wasn’t heavy — it was full. Full of everything you’d said, everything you didn’t need to.
He kissed the top of your head and pulled the covers higher around your back. “Still with me?”
You nodded against his skin. “Still here.”
Harry exhaled like he’d been holding his breath since the moment he told you he loved you.
And then — quietly, in the hush of the room — you spoke softly, “When we get back, I want to introduce you to my family — officially.”
Harry stilled beneath you, like those words struck something deep. His hand, which had been idly tracing your spine, paused.
Then, slowly, he smiled.
“You do?” he asked softly, voice low and filled with something almost reverent.
You nodded against his chest, your voice steadier this time. “Yeah. I want them to meet you. All of you. Not just the guy who walked me down the aisle at Liv’s wedding and Ben’s best friend. I want them to meet you as mine — my boyfriend.”
Harry chuckled, kissing the top of your head again. “You sure? That was a damn good impression with the whole ‘walking down the aisle’ thing...” he teased.
You looked up at him with a soft, teasing grin. “I’m serious.”
He met your gaze, his own eyes crinkling at the corners with something quiet and sincere. “Then I’d be honored.”
You shifted up slightly, propping yourself on your elbow so you could see him better, your fingers trailing lightly down his chest. “It means something to me. Introducing someone like this. Bringing them home.”
“I know,” he murmured, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “And for the record… I’ve never wanted to meet someone’s family more.”
Your heart thudded at that. There was no hesitation in his voice, no teasing in his smile. Just pure affection. Certainty.
“Just a warning,” you whispered, brushing your nose against his as you giddily smiled. “My dad’s going to grill you. He was nice to you at the wedding, but now you’re my boyfriend… that’s out the window. And my mom will pretend she’s not crying when she meets you, like the drama queen she is. Liv will probably corner you with photos from the wedding and tell you her version of our love story. Oh, and don’t even get me started on Grizzly — he’s got opinions.”
Harry laughed softly, his hand sliding gently up your back, anchoring you close again. “Sounds like I’ve got my work cut out for me then.”
“You’ll charm them,” you said, brushing your thumb over his cheek. “You always do.”
He nodded and smiled warmly before he leaned in and kissed you again — slow and sure — before the two of you eventually fell asleep in each other's arms.
The sun was already stretching golden fingers across the whitewashed walls of the bungalow by the time you stirred. Your legs tangled with Harry’s beneath the thin sheet, his hand resting at the small of your back, warm and steady.
You blinked sleepily, then shifted just enough to look at him.
He was already awake — barely — blinking at you with a crooked grin and sleep-rough curls falling into his eyes.
“Buenos días, mi corazón,” he whispered, voice low and soft.
You smiled at the words, even if you only half-understood them. “That means something sweet, doesn’t it? Corazón?”
His hand brushed up your spine, anchoring you closer. “It means… my heart.”
You exhaled a quiet, happy breath. “Speaking like that first thing in the morning… criminal behavior.” you teased.
He chuckled, tucking your hair behind your ear. “You’ve no idea how many things I almost say to you in Spanish. But I don’t want them to get lost in translation.”
“Then teach me,” you said, propping your chin on his chest. “I want to learn. I want to be able to talk with your mom, your dad — with you — in the language that shaped you.”
Harry paused, like your words hit a part of him he hadn’t expected. Then he smiled and brushed his lips against your forehead. “You really mean that?”
You nodded. “Start small. Give me something to learn today.”
He thought for a moment, then cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin gently, saying slowly. “Cada día te quiero más.”
You repeated it, stumbling a bit. “Cada…Cada… día… te quiero… más?”
He grinned. “Perfect. Again.”
You said it again, a little stronger, then smiled brightly. “Okay, now what did I just say?”
His eyes warmed. “It means… each day I love you more.”
Your lips parted, and something fluttered in your chest — not just from the meaning, but from the look on his face when he said it.
You kissed him then — slow and lingering — telling him exactly that with each day you do love him more.
The poolside cabana was already humming with the gentle noise of morning: chairs scooting across tile, the low clatter of dishes, laughter rising and falling in waves.
Savannah spotted you first and dashed toward you in her pink flip-flops, already in her swimsuit. “Uncle Harry! Auntie Y/N!”
You gave Harry a wide-eyed look. “Did I just get a promotion?”
Harry chuckled and ruffled her curls. “Sounds like it.”
“Come sit!” Savannah tugged your hand, pulling you toward the long, shaded table beneath the billowing cabana. The breakfast spread was dreamy: tropical fruit, golden toast, fresh juices, and hot coffee in clay mugs.
Liv passed you a plate, already sipping her cappuccino. “Eat fast. The kids are two bananas away from a sugar high.”
Little Harry, in a shark-themed swimsuit, was stacking croissants and watermelon slices like building blocks on his plate.
Simon eyed him suspiciously. “That tower’s gonna fall, bud.”
“No, it’s not,” little Harry insisted.
But as he reached for more fruit next to the pitcher of juice, his tiny elbow bumped it, sending the bright orange liquid cascading right into Simon’s lap — and Liv’s.
You gasped, hand flying to your mouth, trying not to laugh. “Oh no—!”
Simon stood immediately, drenched. “Well… is it wrong to say ‘I told you so’ to a 4-year-old?”
Liv was already dabbing her legs with a napkin, laughing more than anything else. “That settles it, we’re going back to the cabana to change before the rest of the day starts...”
She looked at you and Harry. “You two good to hold down the fort?”
Harry gave a mock-salute. “Uncle Harry reporting for duty.”
You nodded, softly giggling at Harry. “We’ve got it covered.”
Liv grabbed her bag, squeezing your shoulder on the way out. “We won’t be long. Try to keep the towers under six stories.”
Little Harry beamed. “Mine’s gonna be ten!”
With Simon and Liv off to change, the chaos settled into a rhythm. Rafael fetched more napkins to clean up the table, Lucia stepped inside and could be seen chatting with a staff member, and you and Harry slipped out of your chairs to watch the kids closer.
Savannah and Lindee were already in the pool, paddling and laughing. Little Harry dove in with a cannonball that sent a splash all the way up to your ankles.
“Come watch us!” Savannah called, waving you over. “You too, Uncle Harry!”
You sat on the edge of the pool, ankles dipped in, your hand resting near Harry’s. He brushed his knuckles along your thigh.
“This feels… nice,” he said quietly — almost to himself.
You looked at him. “It is nice, isn’t it?”
His gaze softened. “You, in my world like this? Watching you laugh with my family. Eating breakfast with my mom. Speaking Spanish to me in bed?”
You chuckled. “You taught me one phrase.”
“It’s a good one,” he teased.
You leaned your head against his shoulder. “Say it again?”
He turned to kiss the top of your head. “Cada día te quiero más.”
And for a while, you let yourself just exist in the moment — the heat of the sun, the scent of saltwater and mango, Harry’s fingers brushing yours, the kids’ laughter echoing through the pool deck like music.
It felt like everything had finally quieted around you.
That was until you looked over at the edge of the pool, Lindee’s giggle started to fade, and something in the air changed.
You watched as her movements slowed and her hands gripped the edge of the pool, face going pale, lips parted slightly.
You saw the shift instantly — the fear blooming in her eyes. Your heart stopped.
Without hesitation, you dove in.
You reached her just as her fingers slipped from the pool ledge and her knees gave out making her sink below the water. She was conscious—but fading—panic widening her eyes. You got an arm under her shoulders, another under her knees, holding her like a baby.
“Harry! Call for help!” Your voice cracked as you treaded through the water towards the steps.
He hit the water a heartbeat later, strong strokes closing the gap. “I’ve got her—Sav, scoot back, baby girl…” He slipped an arm beneath Lindee, the two of you levering her carefully onto the deck.
The sudden quiet shattered: Savannah and little Harry froze, eyes huge. Then both began crying—high-pitched, frightened sobs that echoed under the cabana roof.
“Oh no, it’s okay,” Harry soothed, voice shaking but gentle. He pulled the dripping children to his chest, holding them close even as tears streamed down their faces.
You angled Lindee onto her side, sliding a nearby folded towel under her head. Her body jerked violently—first stiff, then shaking—small whimpers caught in her throat.
“It’s all right, sweetheart,” you murmured, fingers sweeping her hair back. “You’re safe. We’re right here.”
Harry rocked the two little ones, murmuring reassurances in English and Spanish:
“Estás bien, chiquitos. (You’re ok, little ones.) Lindee’s going to be all right. Breathe with me—uno, dos—”
Your eyes scanned the area for Rafeal but couldn’t find him. Instead, you saw a nearby cabana boy gathering the used plates at the table, oblivious to the chaos just feet away, “Excuse me! Can you call Mr. Castillo and cabana 3, please? Tell them it’s Lindee…”
He saw what was happening and nodded before running back inside to do what you asked.
Their crying quieted to sniffles as they watched you keep Lindee’s airway clear, watched Harry rub her shoulder and whispered, “Estoy aquí, pequeña. (I'm here, little one.) It’s almost over. Just breathe. Good girl.”
The seizure eased, jerks turning to tremors, then stillness. She blinked, dazed, clinging weakly to consciousness.
Moments later, Rafael pounded up the path, barefoot, eyes wide.
He dropped to his knees, scooping her against his chest as Simon and Liv skidded in behind him, half-dressed, panic on their faces.
“It’s okay, baby—we’ve got you,” Liv whispered, tears sliding off her cheeks. Simon swallowed hard, pressing a kiss to Lindee’s damp curls.
Only when the parents knelt between you did Savannah and little Harry shuffle forward again—still clinging to Harry’s legs. You opened your arms; they piled onto you, small hands gripping your shoulders while Lindee’s parents wrapped her in towels and Rafael phoned the on-call doctor.
Lucia came out and took Savannah and little Harry inside to distract them with some ice cream.
You turned—and found Harry a step away, eyes glassy, shoulders tight, water still dripping from his curls. The steadiness he’d shown was cracking at the seams.
“Hey,” you whispered, pressing a hand to his chest. His heart pounded hard beneath your palm.
“I—” He swallowed. “I knew it could happen, but actually seeing it—she looked so scared. She’s just a baby… she—”
You guided him to a nearby lounge chair, nudged him to sit. He did, elbows on his knees, breath shaky.
“Look at me.” You knelt between his legs, both hands sliding up his arms. “You kept every kid calm. You helped Lindee breathe. She’s getting care because you moved so fast.”
He closed his eyes. “I just… I felt so — God, I felt so helpless.”
“You were anything but helpless,” you said, voice firm. “You were her anchor, Harry. And right now the kids, your parents, Simon and Liv—they’ll remember that.” You brushed your thumb across his cheek, watching how his breathing was uneven. “Breathe with me, sweetheart. In… two… three… Out… two… three.”
He mirrored you—one breath, then another. The jitter in his shoulders eased. His hands came up to cradle yours where they framed his face.
“Thank you,” he whispered, voice raw. “I don’t think I could have done that without you.”
“You never have to,” you answered, pressing your forehead to his. “Cada día te quiero más, remember?”
He managed a soft, damp laugh, closing his eyes. “Cada día te quiero más.”
Later that evening, the sun was low over the horizon, its golden light dipping lazily over the water like honey. You sat curled up on the porch of your shared bungalow, one leg tucked beneath you, a glass of chilled white wine in one hand and your book balanced on your lap.
The ocean whispered just beyond the deck, waves stretching and folding against the shore. The air was warm and lazy with the scent of sea salt and hibiscus, your skin still sun-kissed from the day you’d spent poolside with the kids and Harry’s family.
You hadn’t planned anything else for the evening.
Not after everything that had happened with Lindee earlier.
But now, with the quiet finally settled around you and your heart no longer racing, it felt good to be still. To feel safe.
The sliding door behind you creaked softly, and you glanced up to see Harry emerging, freshly showered and shirtless, curls damp and towel-dried. He leaned over the railing beside you, one hand coming to rest on your shoulder.
He pressed a kiss to your temple. “Hey, hermosa.”
“Hey,” you said softly, smiling as you turned your face to nuzzle against his.
“You okay?” he asked, reading your expression with those warm, watchful eyes.
You nodded. “Just decompressing.”
“Good.” He paused, then added casually, “Hey, I’ve gotta make a quick work call. Just something Clarkson needs a quick call about, but it shouldn’t take long.”
You tilted your head. “Work? On vacation?”
He gave a small shrug, eyes twinkling. “Just a quick call...”
You rolled your eyes affectionately. “Well, don’t let him steal too much of your evening.”
“Oh, I won’t.” He grinned and gently pecked your lips. “Just do me a favor and head inside in a few? Maybe check the bed.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Check the bed?”
“You’ll see,” he said, already backing away with that maddening smirk.
You watched him go, curiosity blooming in your chest.
A few minutes later, wine glass in hand, you wandered back inside with your book tucked under your arm, only to stop short just inside the bedroom.
Laid across the bed was a dress.
The dress.
The one you’d tried on for Harry’s masquerade ball— the dark brown dress with a very deep bust and dangerously high slit up the thigh, the one that had made Harry stare at you like you were wearing moonlight itself. You’d loved it too. But it had felt too bold for the ball.
You never mentioned still wanting it after that day, but apparently, he knew how much you liked it, as he bought it without you knowing.
Beside it sat a sleek black box containing a pair of elegant heels and a matching clutch, along with a delicate gold necklace you’d admired when he took you jewelry shopping that day as well, but you never mentioned it again.
And on top of it all, a folded ivory card with Harry’s handwriting.
Be ready by 6, my love. –H
Chapter 8
Summary:
After arriving in the Maldives with the Castillo family, you and Harry very much enjoy your time together.
Chapter Text
The sun was beginning to sink outside, casting soft amber light across the cream walls of the bungalow. You stood barefoot in front of the mirror in the living area, sliding in simple gold hoop earrings — the final touch to the look you hadn’t expected to wear ever again after putting it back in the store.
That impossible, breathtaking brown dress that hugged your curves like it had been made just for you. The one he apparently got for you as well that day — and somehow kept hidden until now.
The silk shimmered in the fading light, the deep V of the neckline brushing the top of your sternum, the slit grazing high along your thigh every time you shifted. You smoothed your hands over your hips, trying not to blush at the way it made you feel: confident and desired. Like someone worth being planned for.
The door opened behind you but you didn’t turn — you didn’t have to.
You caught his reflection in the mirror the moment he stepped inside — golden hour slicing across his face, curls still damp from the quick rinse, jaw slack as the door clicked shut behind him, and all the air seemed to leave the room.
Harry stood there, completely silent, still as could be — staring.
His phone hung loosely in his hand, Clarkson already forgotten.
You gave him a slow look over your shoulder. “That was faster than expected. Everything taken care of?”
He didn’t speak right away. Hell, the man didn’t even blink.
“Fuck.” That one word, half-breathed, was all it took to make your grin bloom.
He took a step forward, then another — slow, calculated but reverent, like he wasn’t entirely sure you were right in front of him.
“Remind me why again?” he asked, voice rough. “You… Christ— why didn’t we get this in the first place?”
“It was too bold for your work party,” you said simply, turning to face him, smoothing your hands over the fabric. “But it looks like you had other ideas in mind...”
“Of course I did,” he murmured, gaze devouring every inch of you. “I couldn’t get the image of you in it out of my head.”
He closed the distance, hands sliding around your waist, lips just brushing your neck. “I have a reservation made for dinner,” he whispered. “But now I’m thinking we’re not leaving this room.”
Your laugh came breathless. “Harry…”
He pressed his mouth just beneath your ear. “Let me have you just like this, cariño..”
You tilted your head, eyes fluttering shut for a moment—then gently pulled back, just enough to slip out of his hold.
“No, no.” You smoothed the front of the dress playfully and stepped just out of reach. “You don’t get to surprise me with the dress I tried to talk myself out of… let me melt under the weight of this fabric… and then just strip it off me.”
He groaned softly, hands flexing at his sides. “Baby, please—”
You arched a brow, smirking as you grabbed the matching clutch from the side table. “If you want it off me…” You walked past him slowly, trailing your fingers up his chest and whispering into his ear, “You’re gonna have to earn it.”
And then you walked to the door, casting one final glance over your shoulder.
“Six sharp, remember?” you teased. “I’d hate to be late.”
You opened the door and bit your lip as you paused for a second, “Oh, and by the way, I still was able to find a lingerie set to match with this… impromptu dress… so you know what that means…”
He stood frozen for a beat, watching you go, the image of you with any color of lingerie under that blessed dress painting his mind.
He finally muttered to himself, grinning like a man fully wrecked as he walked to catch up with you, “Estoy jodido…” (I’m fucked)
The beachside restaurant was all quiet romance and golden light — nestled right at the edge of the sand, with flickering lanterns hanging from wooden beams and linen-draped tables spaced far enough apart that it felt private, intimate. The kind of place that didn’t need to try too hard. The ocean did half the work.
Harry’s hand rested against the small of your back as the hostess led you to your table. He hadn’t said much since you walked out in that dress — just offered his hand and opened the door for you like a gentleman on the edge of a breakdown.
Now, with the sun starting to dip behind the sea, he pulled out your chair like it was muscle memory. As you sat, he leaned in and murmured near your ear, “Still not over it, by the way.”
You looked up at him as he moved to take his seat across from you, lips curling. “Over what?”
“That dress. You. What you said before we left.” He narrowed his eyes playfully. “You’re trouble.”
“I’m a delight,” you said, draping your napkin over your lap, shooting him a faux-innocent smile.
He let out a soft chuckle, sitting back in his chair, arm draped casually across the side. The way he looked at you — openly, like he’d missed the sight of you even after just five minutes — made your pulse skip.
Soft music played in the background, just barely louder than the gentle hush of the waves. A candle flickered between you, making shadows dance across his jaw, the watch on his wrist glinting faintly.
You sipped your wine, letting the silence linger. It wasn’t uncomfortable. It was… charged. Like you were both pretending this was just another meal, but everything underneath said otherwise.
“You’re staring,” you said finally, pretending not to look flattered as you read over the menu.
Harry smirked. “I’m studying.”
“Studying?”
He leaned forward, forearms on the table. “Trying to figure out how you keep managing to knock me on my ass with how gorgeous you always look.”
You tilted your head. “Well, not always, you’ve seen me at my worst.”
“I have,” he said softly. “And somehow, that only makes this—” he gestured at you, “—even better. Because it’s not just the dress tonight, it’s you. It’s everything I see when I look at you.”
You blinked, your heart doing that quiet, aching twist. “Harry…”
He reached across the table and brushed your fingers lightly with his. “I can’t imagine this trip without you — I’m so happy you’re here...”
You smiled, lacing your fingers with his. “I’m happy I’m here too...”
He brought your hand to his mouth and kissed your knuckles.
The waiter came, discreet and kind, taking your orders with a nod and offering to bring fresh drinks.
Once he left, Harry glanced toward the ocean, then back to you with a soft grin. “You know,” he said, voice a little lower, “when I made that call earlier to Clarkson… the whole time, all I could think about was this.”
“This?”
He gestured to you. “This. Getting you to myself for the first time in days. Watching you sit there across from me like a dream I haven’t quite earned yet.”
You tried to play it cool, but your smile betrayed you.
“You’re sappy tonight,” you teased.
He lifted his wine glass. “Only for you.”
You clinked yours to his. “That’s dangerous territory, Castillo,”
“Mmm, I live for danger,” he whispered, jokingly.
You lightly chuckled and took a sip of your wine, keeping your eyes on him.
The sun dipped further, casting the sky in pink and orange hues as the evening went on.
Your plates arrived — beautiful, fresh, light dishes that smelled like summer and tasted like indulgence.
And by the time dessert arrived, you were leaning in closer, both of you a little buzzed on wine and soft touches, lost in the way the world had narrowed down to just two chairs, one table, and a thousand unspoken thoughts.
He fed you a bite of some delicate tropical tart, then licked the fork himself, watching your reaction.
You raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t know dinner came with a show...”
He leaned in across the table and said in a voice deep but soft as velvet. “Wait ‘til you see the encore.”
Your breath caught, your smile spreading slowly. “Well, aren’t you bold?”
“Confident,” he corrected.
And then — as if the universe knew it was time — the music shifted. A soft, familiar tune floated out across the sand. Something older, sweeter.
"Can't Help Falling in Love" by Elvis Presley started to play.
Harry’s eyes lit with something different now — tender, playful, sure.
He wipes his mouth, put his napkin onto his plate, and stood, offering his hand. “Mi amor?”
Your heart twisted in the best way, knowing exactly what he wanted. “Right now?” You looked around at everyone looking at him.
“I’ll never skip out on the opportunity to dance with you...” His hand moved a little closer, his eyes softening.
You laughed softly and let him lead you onto the sand nearby, where the tide whispered just beyond the sun setting.
His hand found your waist, yours found his shoulder, and you began to sway slowly — his breath close, his lips brushing your temple as he began to sing quietly, just for you:
"Wise men say… only fools rush in…"
You smiled, eyes shining, and whispered the next part with him:
"But I can’t help… falling in love with you."
He spun you once, your dress catching the breeze like silk in motion, before pulling you back into his arms — flush against him.
The music had faded into the hush of the waves, and Harry’s arms stayed wrapped around your waist, his breath slow and steady near your ear. The candlelight from the restaurant flickered behind you, but it was the sunset in front of you that caught your gaze — like the sky had melted into the sea, painting it in every shade of fire.
You pulled back just slightly, “Do you hear that?” you whispered, a slow grin forming.
Harry tilted his head, listening. “Hear what?”
You stepped out of his arms, stepping a few steps away. “The ocean calling,” you teased in a corny tone, walking backward toward the shoreline.
He raised a brow, arms crossing over his chest, watching you. “The ocean, huh? And what’s she saying?”
You smirked and slipped your fingers behind your back, the zipper of your dress whispered open.
Harry’s lips parted. “Wait—what are you—”
“You said you wanted a moment alone...” Your dress slid off your shoulders, catching briefly at your hips before dropping to the sand in a graceful pool. “This seems like a good one.”
You stood there in a sheer champagne lingerie set, the sunset already beginning to shimmer in your eyes. You tilted your head and reached out one hand to invite him along as you stepped into the surf. “Come take a sunset dip with me, Mister ‘I live for danger…’”
Harry blinked, clearly short-circuiting, then let out a low, incredulous laugh. “You’re a menace.”
“You love it,” you called softly, waist-deep now, the water glowing gold around your skin.
“You have no idea,” he muttered.
“Come on! The water feels amazing!” you giggled.
He grinned and quickly stripped off his shirt and kicked off his shoes, then his shorts, chasing after you with zero hesitation, boxer briefs clinging low on his hips. You squealed and ducked farther into the waves, laughing when he nearly tripped trying to catch up.
The water curled around your waist and upper back as you backed away. “That’s all you got, Castillo? Bit slow for a man so competitive...” you teased.
“Oh, that’s it.” He dove toward you with a splash, grabbing your wrist and spinning you around.
You shrieked, laughing as he hoisted you briefly off your feet and into the water before catching you against him again. You wrapped your arms around his neck, giggling, your foreheads nearly touching as the tide rocked you gently.
“You’re going to keep me on my toes, aren’t you?” he murmured, pushing a strand of wet hair behind your ear.
You grinned, breathless. “Absolutely. It’s one of the things you love about me, right?” You teased.
He smirked. “One of the many things, querida…”
You ran your hands down his bare shoulders, “Oh? What else are the ‘other many things’?” you said playfully.
Harry hummed like he was thinking, though his fingers were already tracing slow, lazy circles on your waist as the water swayed around you.
“Well,” he started, his voice soft but full of that teasing edge that always made your chest flutter, “I love that you challenge me. I love how your eyes light up when you’re being mischievous. I love that you’re the only person alive who could get me to willingly sprint into the ocean in my underwear.”
You laughed at that, then rested your forehead against his, combing your fingers through his hair.
“I love how you listen,” he added, more tender now. “How you see people. How you see me.”
That made your smile falter — not in a bad way, but in the way that always happened when Harry said something so quietly honest, it stole the breath from your lungs.
“You say things like that and expect me to survive it,” you murmured, blushing.
He gave a small shrug, brushing the tip of his nose against yours. “You make me say things like that… you deserve to know how happy you make me.”
You let out a soft breath and nudged your nose against his, smiling faintly. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me… how valued you make me feel…”
His brows lifted gently, eyes still locked on yours. “Wanna bet?”
You laughed quietly, but it caught in your throat when he leaned in and kissed your jaw — a soft, reverent press of lips just beneath your ear.
The golden water lapped around you both, warm from the day’s sun, your bodies almost fully submerged and tangled in the tide. Every movement of his hands, every brush of his fingers, was slow and intentional — like he wasn’t just touching you, but telling you something he didn’t know how to say with words.
“You make me feel like I can finally breathe again,” he said suddenly, barely louder than a whisper.
Your heart stuttered, and you pulled back a little to look at him — really look at him.
“You do,” he repeated, pressing his forehead to yours. “Even when you’re driving me mad, teasing me with that mouth and walking into the ocean like a goddess — you make me feel like I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.”
Your hand moved up to cup his cheek, your thumb brushing against his damp skin. His eyes, lit by the last edge of sunset, were so open — so vulnerable.
“Eres… eres el amor de mi vida,” you whispered, stumbling just slightly.
He grinned. “When did you learn that?”
You beamed as you looked down at him, your arms around his neck and legs moving to wrap around his torso now. A small, proud giggle bubbled out, “I asked Liv for a new phrase to surprise you with.”
That warmed something deep in his heart. You continued to show just as much effort and love as he put in with actions and words — something he’d never had in a partner. He was so sure you were the one for him, and that continued to grow with each passing moment.
He nudged your nose with his and whispered, “Quiero pasar el resto de mi vida contigo…” (I want to spend the rest of my life with you.) Then began to lean in to kiss you.
You leaned in closer, whispering softly, “What does that mean?”
Harry’s lips brushed yours, a breath away, and he smirked. “I’ll teach you what it means one day…” he murmured, voice low and charged. “But I’d need to ask a certain question first.”
Your heart leaped in your chest as you bit your bottom lip shyly.
And then his mouth met yours — slow, sure, and utterly dizzying. The kind of kiss that felt like a promise, even if he hadn’t asked it yet.
His arms wrapped tighter around you, and the waves curled around your legs as you sank into him like you’d always belonged there.
Your hands tangled in his damp curls, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened, his mouth parting yours with an ache that sent a shiver down your spine. His tongue swept yours gently, like he was trying to learn the taste of forever.
When you finally broke apart, both of you breathless, you rested your forehead against his and whispered, “When you say stuff like that, it does something to me…”
He smiled, but it was soft — full of affection and heat and awe. “Good,” he said, brushing his lips against your cheek, then your jaw.
You hummed, wrapping your arms tighter around his shoulders, your body bumping slightly against in the shallows as the tide rocked around you against him.
You tipped your head and bit your bottom lip, eyes flicking downward. “Also… you should know your boxers are clinging to you in a very specific way right now.”
Harry huffed a laugh, eyes gleaming with heat and mischief. “Oh yeah?”
“Mmhmm,” you said innocently. “Tragic, really. If only there was some way to fix it…”
He narrowed his eyes playfully, his hands moving down to your ass, pulling you as close as he could to his torso, “You mean to tell me I bring you to paradise, wine and dine you under the stars, pour my heart out like some lovesick poet—”
“You did, very poetically, I might add—”
He let out a small chuckle at your addition, “—and now I’m being objectified for my soaking wet underwear?”
You grinned, eyes sparkling. “Oh, absolutely.”
Harry let out a low groan and buried his face against your neck, laughing breathlessly against your skin. “You’re a tease…” He started to kiss the soft skin just under your ear.
You gasped, mock-offended. “I am delightful.”
“Delightfully evil more like…” he pulled back to look back at you with a grin on his face.
“And yet here you are,” you whispered, now moving your lips to brush his ear. “With me wrapped around you, in the ocean, hopelessly in love…”
He growled, playful but full of that delicious tension. “Say it again.”
Your brows raised. “That you’re hopelessly in love?”
“No,” he said, kissing just beneath your ear again, voice darkening as his hand slid down your thigh. “The part about you being wrapped around me.”
Your breath caught as his lips grazed your collarbone, your fingers clenching softly around his neck. The sky was fading into lavender now, the sun just a breath above the horizon, casting molten gold over the water around you.
“How about we go back to our bungalow,” you murmured. “And I can wrap around you there...”
Harry’s breath hitched at your words.
His hands gripped your hips, tighter now, fingers pressing into your damp skin like he needed something to anchor himself to. You could feel him, hard against your core, separated by nothing but soaked fabric and aching restraint.
“Oh, baby,” he whispered, voice rough, “if you say that to me again, I’m going to lose any self-control I have left.”
You leaned in, lips barely brushing his as you whispered, “Then lose it.”
His jaw flexed, a slow, heavy exhale leaving him as he gently but firmly pressed you closer, his hands dragging lower, gripping your thighs with intention.
“I’ve been wanting you all damn day,” he murmured against your mouth, his voice velvet and gravel. “About your lips… your moans… how you looked when I had you underneath me last night, gasping my name like it was a fucking prayer.”
You whimpered softly, thighs tightening around him.
“I’ve had to sit through small talk and family time and kid-proof pool time,” he went on, biting your earlobe just enough to make you whine. “And every single second, all I could think about was getting you alone. About peeling that little cover-up off you slow and getting my mouth back on every inch of this body.”
His words made your head swim, pulse thrumming in your throat.
“Back at the table,” he murmured, lips trailing hot along your jaw, “you leaned over to whisper something about the dessert, and I nearly dragged you away right then. You don’t even realize what you do to me.”
His voice dropped lower, his breath warm against your ear. “Te quiero contra la pared…” (I want you up against the wall.)
You shivered.
His hands tightened at your hips, fingers digging in just enough to make your pulse race. He kissed the corner of your mouth, then your jaw, then lower — his voice rough and reverent, “Quiero saborearte… lentamente, completamente.” (I want to taste you… slowly, completely.)
You smiled, breathless and dizzy with how turned on you already were. “Care to translate, Castillo?”
Harry grinned against your skin, his lips brushing your collarbone as he whispered, “Mmm. I could… but where’s the fun in that?”
You huffed a laugh, even as your breath hitched from the scrape of his stubble along your chest. “That’s not fair.”
“I don’t make promises I don’t plan to keep, whether they are made in English or Spanish…” he growled, letting your feet touch the sand again as his mouth crashed into yours — greedy, claiming, sinful.
You moaned into it, hands clutching at his soaked curls, hips instinctively grinding against his. His hands squeezed your ass, pulling you flush against the thick length of him.
“That dress…” he said between kisses, “all I could think about was bending you over the damn table and hiking it up— just to hear how pretty you sound when you fall apart on my cock.”
You gasped into his mouth, and he smirked.
“Still wanna tease me about my boxers, carino?” He bit your bottom lip lightly and pulled on it.
You pressed your body tighter against his. “Are you just going to keep talking about what you’re going to do or actually make a move?” You challanged, tilting your head.
That made him growl — low, dangerous, desperate. He kissed you again, then grabbed your hand, his voice husky as he began walking you both out of the water. “God, you’re a little minx...”
“Is that so?” you teased, matching his steps towards your dress that laid forgotten in the sand.
Harry shot you a look — dark, heated — then tugged you back for one last searing kiss beneath the fading sunset.
“I’m gonna have you screaming my name so loud they’ll hear it from the next bungalow,” he whispered.
“And when I’m done, you’re gonna beg me to take you again.”
You blushed, breathless, already aching. “Then what are you waiting for?”
Harry didn’t answer. He just grabbed every piece of article of clothing that you two had abandoned and swept you into his arms like you weighed nothing — bridal-style, wet lingerie and all — and started carrying you back toward the bungalow.
The walk — well, slight jog Harry did, back to the bungalow, felt like the longest, most delicious kind of torture.
He carried you like a man on a mission — water dripping from both your bodies, his muscles flexing beneath you, jaw clenched in restraint. Your arms were wrapped loosely around his neck, head resting against his shoulder as his skin warmed yours, his lips brushing the top of your head with reverence and impatience all at once.
By the time he nudged the door open with his foot, the last trace of daylight had melted into night, and the only glow in the bungalow came from the soft lights above the bed and the candles you’d lit earlier to create a peaceful ambiance.
He didn’t waste a second. He kicked the door shut behind him and walked straight to the bed, lowering you gently until your damp back hit the cool sheets. But instead of hovering over you, he stepped back slowly, eyes dragging down your body in that sheer champagne lingerie, now even more translucent and clinging from the sea.
“Christ,” he muttered, dragging a hand through his wet curls. “Do you have any idea what you look like right now?”
You smiled, tilting your head innocently. “No… but by the look on your face and your hard cock, I’ll make an educated guess and say ‘pretty damn good’.”
His gaze darkened, the corner of his mouth twitching with a smirk.
He reached for the hem of his wet boxer briefs and peeled them off, unhurried, not breaking eye contact. Your breath caught at the sight of him — hard, flushed, his body glistening and golden in the flickering light.
He crawled onto the bed, over you slowly, one knee between your thighs as he bent to kiss the inside of your ankle. Then your knee. Then the top of your thigh — every kiss came with a murmur.
“This mouth,” he said, brushing his lips along your hip, “has been aching to taste you all day.”
You whimpered, hands slipping into his hair.
His lips found your stomach. Your ribs. The swell of your breast through the lace.
“This body… fuck, this body drives me insane. You’re so perfect.”
He hovered over you now, one hand trailing from your neck to your waist, thumb brushing under the band of your bra. You arched into him, needing more.
“Harry, please—”
He kissed you hard then, swallowing your moan as he ground his hips down. The friction made you gasp, your fingers digging into his back as his tongue slid against yours with purpose.
He pulled back just barely, panting. “You gonna be a good girl and let me make you come?” he whispered, nudging your nose with his. “Or do you want to keep teasing me like the little minx you were in the water?”
You grinned up at him, legs wrapping around his waist. “Why not both?”
That broke something in him.
His mouth was on you again — hot, wet, relentless. He stripped you slowly — until your bra and panties joined the forgotten dress on the floor, and then he worshipped you like you were something holy.
He eagerly hitched your legs over his shoulders, leaned forward, and dove in like a man starved. His tongue moved between your thighs with sinful precision, fingers gripping your hips like he never wanted to let go.
He worked slowly and sloppily, sliding through your folds and flicking your clit, tasting you like he would never be able to again.
You were quickly soaked, arousal generously coated the lower half of his face, and his eyes were almost black with desire.
“Fuck, you taste so good, querida. So fuckin’ sweet.” Harry mumbled against your core.
He continued to earnestly lap up your sweetness, scruff rubbing against your inner thighs, eyes locking with yours, watching every little gasp, moan, and whimper.
You gasped a shaky breath in, and your hand moved from the sheets to grasp his curls as he began sucking at your bundle of nerves, latching onto it almost desperately.
You involuntarily rolled your hips against his mouth — needing more friction, more stimulation, needing him closer to you.
“Fuck—” You panted, breathing heavily, a heat crawling up your spine.
He slid his hand up your body slowly and cupped your breast before putting your nipple between his fingers and rolling it back and forth — gently pulling on it.
Within a few moments of that, a familiar pull in your lower stomach bloomed.
“Harry,” You whimpered, eyebrows pinched together, back arching.
He knew you were close. He could taste it. With that, he went faster and harder with his tongue, burying his face between your thighs, holding your thighs apart to get better access to you.
His low, wrecked voice came out raspy and mildly slurred as he muttered against your pussy, “Go on, baby, cum all over my face…”
A broken moan escaped from your throat, and you felt your orgasm take over your body in a violent wave of pleasure.
You cried out and your thighs closed around Harry’s head in an attempt to keep him right where he was.
What you didn’t expect was Harry to love it. To become intoxicated by it — as well as your reaction.
He hummed into your warmth as he continued to ease you through it all — happily swallowing your release, drinking it like it was the fountain of youth.
After the aftershocks and you were on another plane, far from here, he pulled away, softly pressed a kiss to your inner thigh, “Come back to me, mi vida…” he slowly put your legs down and trailed his lips lightly up your body.
He kissed your neck then just below your ear as he muttered, his hand pulling your leg around his waist, “Sweetest fucking thing I’ve ever tasted,” he groaned as he gently nibbled your earlobe. “You were made for me.”
Your vision was slightly blurred, and you felt like you were floating. You smiled and hummed dreamily, “I’m all yours baby…”
When he finally found your lips, his swollen and glistening, he lined himself against your entrance and paused, eyes searching yours.
“I want to watch you fall apart around me,” he said lowly, “again and again… until your voice is hoarse from screaming my name.”
You nodded breathlessly, and he slid in slow — deep — filling you inch by inch as your mouth dropped open in a moan.
Your legs locked around his back, heels digging in. His hands threaded with yours above your head, fingers laced, bodies flush, nothing between you.
He moved slowly at first — deep and claiming — kissing you through every moan. But the tension between you, the build from the water to the bed, it cracked like thunder.
“Say it,” he growled as he thrust harder. “Tell me you want me.”
You gasped and your eyebrows furrowed as the pleasure grew, “I want you—fuck—I always want you.”
His pace snapped, harder now, every stroke rocking through you. His mouth moved over your neck, your shoulder, biting softly at your collarbone as you cried out.
“How’s that feel, baby?” He mumbled, his hand pushing your leg higher up.
“So good, fuck— don’t stop,” You babbled, panting heavily as you felt yourself climb to another peak.
He grunted and groaned, his breath hot against your skin as he continued to rock himself in and out of you, “Fuck, you feel so good wrapped around me…”
Your body trembled as another climax built — molten and unbearable — and when it hit, you shattered around him with a strangled moan of his name. Your body arching against his, hands threading into his locks or grabbing onto his bicep.
Harry groaned as you clenched around him, pulsing as you came. He shortly followed, burying himself deep as he came with a raw sound pressed into your shoulder.
You stayed tangled, wrapped in each other, sweaty and breathless, your hearts pounding against each other as you both came down from your highs.
After some time, the sea hummed gently outside, the waves lapping the shore in rhythmic hushes. Everything had stilled — the candlelight casting soft, golden shadows across the walls, their warmth echoing the quiet intimacy that hung between you.
You lay curled against Harry, one leg draped over his, your cheek resting on his chest as your fingers absently traced the faint scar near his ribs. It was peaceful. Full. But your thoughts… weren’t as still as you wanted them to be.
You bit your lip, almost hesitating — and then, softly, like something delicate you weren’t sure you were allowed to say out loud, said as you kept your eyes on his chest, “I used to think love was something I had to earn…”
Harry’s breath caught. He didn’t speak — he just stilled, holding you tighter.
You kept going, your voice barely above a whisper. “Every relationship before this… before you… I felt like I had to convince them to stay. Like I wasn’t enough on my own. I was always either too much or not interesting enough, or too small, or not good enough to be the one they chose when it actually mattered.”
Harry pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you — his brows furrowed, jaw clenched.
“And I tried not to believe it,” you continued, your throat tight, “but when it happens over and over again, you start to carry it like it’s your fault. Like something’s just… wrong with you.”
He sat up fully then, bringing you with him until you were straddling his lap, wrapped in the sheets and each other. His hands came to your waist, grounding and steady, his thumb brushing the edge of your spine.
“Hey,” he murmured gently, “look at me.”
You did.
“I don’t know who made you feel like that, but they were wrong. So wrong. Because you—” his voice cracked slightly, and he swallowed — “you are more than enough. You’re… you’re worth so much.”
Your eyes shimmered, heart pounding against your ribs. “I’ve only been with you for a few weeks,” you said, almost laughing at yourself, “but you’ve already done more to show me what it should feel like — to be wanted, to be seen. To be chosen.”
Harry’s gaze softened, and he moved his forehead to rest against yours, nose brushing gently against yours.
“I’m not perfect,” you added, voice trembling slightly. “I still have these thoughts. These little voices that whisper, ‘he could do so much better’ or ‘this is too good, something bad has to happen.’ And I hate that. I hate how scared I get when things feel this good.”
You felt his hands move to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing along your jaw.
“My love,” he breathed, “you don’t have to be perfect. You just have to be honest with me. And you are. That’s more than I’ve ever had in my life with someone.”
He kissed your forehead, then your nose, then finally your lips — slow and soft.
“You’re allowed to have fears,” he whispered. “You’re allowed to carry scars. I’m not going to love you less for them. I want all of it. All of you.”
“Even the anxious parts?” you whispered, a small smile cracking through.
“Especially those,” he said with a smile across his lips. “Because I’ve got enough calm for both of us.”
You let out a tearful laugh, one of your hands combing through his curls gently.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he added. “You don’t have to earn that. You don’t have to prove anything. You are valuable.”
You kissed him again — quiet and grateful — and he kissed you back with all the patience in the world.
2 days later
The light was still soft when you slipped out of bed, the ocean breeze curling through the slightly cracked window, tugging at the edge of the curtains. Harry laid still, deeply asleep on his stomach, one arm stretched across your side of the bed like he was reaching for you.
You smiled at the sight of him, but the knot in your stomach didn’t ease.
Today was the spa day with his mom, his sister, and his sister-in-law.
The three most important women who mattered deeply to him. Women who could one day be your in-laws if everything kept moving in the direction your heart hoped it would. And that thought alone had you brushing your teeth with trembling hands.
You dressed slowly, slipping into the blue sundress you’d picked out the night before. Your hair was already pinned loosely back, makeup subtle but soft, presentable without being overdone. Still, after whispering to yourself in the mirror over and over, your nerves were humming like a low current under your skin.
You stepped outside onto the shaded bungalow porch, the scent of salt and morning sun washing over you as you pulled out your phone and quietly dialed your sister.
She picked up on the second ring.
“You’re up early,” she said, voice still raspy from sleep.
“Sorry to call so late for you,” you whispered. “I didn’t want to wake him...”
“Everything okay?”
You sank into one of the cushioned chairs and blew out a breath. “I’m freaking out a little.”
There was a pause, then, gently, “About the spa day?”
“Yeah. I mean… I know it’s supposed to be fun. But it’s his mom. His sister. His sister-in-law. And I’m just… I’m nervous still that I don’t compare to what they want for him...”
“Hey,” she said softly. “You told me that things have gone well so far. Right? Even with his sister who iced you out at first… what’s changed?”
You were quiet for a beat before you confessed, “Nothing but this could be my in-laws one day. And if I screw this up… if they don’t like me… that matters. Because they matter to him, and what matters to him is important to me, you know? I mean, what if Ben’s family didn’t like you? What would you have done?”
From inside the bungalow, a soft creak echoed, unnoticed by you. Harry had stirred at the sound of your voice and stood in the hallway quietly, just out of sight, his heart catching as your words floated toward him.
The idea that you were already thinking about his family that way — about being part of it — made something tighten in his chest. In the best, most disarming way.
Back on the porch, your sister’s voice came through again. “I would have still loved Ben, I would have continued to try with his family – I know my worth. I knew Ben knew my worth. You know Harry knows your worth — you just need to start believing it, hon.”
There was a few moments of silence then a soft sigh by her, “You’re going to be fine. They’re going to continue loving you. You already survived several days of pool days and dinner tables with them — and you’re still standing.”
“Barely,” you muttered, making her laugh.
“You’ve got this. Just be yourself. Trust me when I say this — Harry wouldn’t have brought you on this trip if he knew they wouldn’t give you a chance. He brought you because he wanted them to get to know the woman he’s falling in love with, right?”
That made you smile — the first real one since you woke up.
And then a knock on the door startled you.
You shot up from your seat. “Shit—they’re here. I gotta go.”
“Go knock ’em dead,” your sister said, and you hung up, rushing inside to make sure Harry didn’t answer the door half-naked or wake him up.
Too late.
He was already in the doorway, wearing a pair of plaid pajama pants, shirtless, with his hair a perfect disaster. You stopped short at the sight of him and saw who was waiting on the other side of the door: Lucia, Anne, and Liv — all grinning like they’d just caught him in the act of something scandalous.
“Well, well, well,” Liv drawled, arms crossed. “Did we interrupt something?”
Harry blinked at Liv’s teasing jab, then glanced down at his bare chest. “Uhm…”
Lucia just chuckled and kissed her son on the cheek. “Go put on a shirt, mijo, before you give your sisters more ammunition...”
Harry stepped back sheepishly, grinning as he walked past you, leaning over to gently peck your cheek before going to the bedroom.
Lucia turned to you and smiled warmly. “You look lovely, hermosa. Ready to head out?”
You nodded, your nerves still a bit tight, but your smile was easier now. “As I’ll ever be.”
You were just about to step out the door with Lucia, Liv, and Anne when Harry reappeared in the hallway, now tugging a soft gray T-shirt down over his chest, curls still wild from sleep. His eyes found yours instantly, and he crossed the room in a few long strides.
“Wait—” he murmured, reaching for your hand.
You turned, heart fluttering, as he gently pulled you back toward him, away from the open door. His fingers threaded lightly through yours before he leaned down and brushed his lips over yours — soft, lingering, warm.
When he pulled back, his voice was barely above a whisper.
“Just be yourself, mi vida,” he murmured, resting his forehead on yours for a moment. “They already love you. Just like I do.”
You blinked, your breath catching, and a light blush appeared on your cheeks.
Then, as you started to smile, your heart melting from the weight of his words, he kissed you again — this time slower, deeper, like it was just the two of you in the world. Like he wanted to carry this kiss with you through the whole day.
And then he whispered against your lips. Quiet and sure. “I love you.”
You froze for a half-second, even though you’d both said it before — that night on the beach, sand beneath your feet, the moon and stars shining above you, your hearts completely bare. But hearing it now, in the daylight, in the quiet of it all, as you stood wrapped in his arms with his family waiting just outside — it hit differently. It hit deep.
You nodded slowly, eyes shining up at him. “I love you, too.”
From the door, Lucia glanced over her shoulder, catching the last second of it — the way her son looked at you like the world could stop spinning and he’d still be fine as long as you were in his arms. She didn’t say anything — just smiled softly, knowingly, like she’d seen this moment coming long before the two of you ever did.
“Alright, amorcita,” Lucia called gently. “Time for you to come get pampered.”
Anne laughed behind her, linking arms with Liv as she said teasingly. “My brother will have to deal without you for a couple of hours… pobrecito…” (Poor thing)
Harry smirked and let you go reluctantly, watching as you stepped outside into the sunlight, cheeks still pink and lips still tingling from his kiss.
The spa was a hidden gem nestled into the lush edge of the resort — all-white stone, flowing water features, and the faint scent of citrus and eucalyptus curling through the warm air. You followed Lucia, Liv, and Anne through the serene lobby, your nerves still fluttering slightly as you stepped into the changing rooms.
The moment your robe was on and you were led into the private treatment area, though, a gentle calm began to wash over you. The sound of fountains trickled in the background, the sunlight spilling in through gauzy curtains. A quiet hush filled the space that made you feel like you could finally exhale.
Lucia took a seat beside you on one of the lounge beds, her hair pinned back in a loose braid, passed you a glass of cucumber-infused water with a soft smile.
“It’s good to take a moment to breathe, isn’t it?” she said gently.
You nodded. “Definitely. I fear I don’t do it enough... ”
She smiled and took a sip from her glass, “None of us do…”
You cleared your throat softly after you took a sip as well, “I told Harry that I don’t travel much when we first met, so it's been nice even to be able to be on this trip.”
Liv, already curled up with a steaming mug of tea beside Anne. “I was the same before meeting Simon… now I’m a pro at pretending spa days are a necessity whenever I can.”
Lucia gave her a light nudge with her foot, smiling. “They are a necessity. Especially for women like us who carry everyone’s weight on our shoulders.”
That made you laugh softly, and for the first time since the morning, your guard started to lower.
The massage room was dim and serene, filled with the soft sound of waves and the faint scent of coconut oil and fresh lavender.
You lay face-down on a warm, plush table, eyes closed, tension slowly melting from your shoulders as the therapist’s hands moved in long, practiced strokes.
To your left, Lucia let out a small, contented sigh.
“Tres hijas es un lindo pensamiento…” (Three daughters is a nice thought) she joked lightly.
Liv giggled from the other side of the room. “Mamá, ni siquiera le ha propuesto matrimonio. ¡No queremos asustarla!” (Mom, he hasn't even proposed to her yet. We don't want to scare her!)
You chuckled and perked your head up, “Ok, so I know my Spanish isn’t the best… but I heard ‘propose’ and ‘scare’, care to translate the rest, ladies?”
“Oh, she’s already making wedding plans for you and Harry,” Anne replied bluntly, grinning as she perked her head up to look at you.
You turned red and swallowed, nervously chuckling, “Is there something I should know about?”
Anne laid her head down, and Liv perked hers up. “No, just ignore those two, they are just excited to have another girl join the group.”
That made you smile — the kind of smile you couldn’t help even with your cheek pressed to the padded table.
The conversation changed to poke some fun at the men, each of them teasing the men who weren’t there to defend themselves.
“Wait, you’re telling me Harry wasn’t born suave and brooding?” you teased.
Lucia snorted. “Oh, no. He was a menace when he was little.”
“He had this habit,” Anne chimed in, “of climbing into the kitchen drawers and hiding inside them. Mom would pull open a cabinet to get a mixing bowl and boom — toddler Harry, covered in flour, grinning like a maniac.”
They all giggled at the story, Linda a little more as she remembered the memory.
Anne continued, “He was always the dramatic one,” she added. “We were at the beach once, and he threw himself into the sand face-first because my dad told him he couldn’t have a second ice cream cone. He didn’t cry — just laid there like he’d been assassinated.”
Everyone laughed louder at that.
“Ah, but now he pouts at you instead of us,” Liv said, nudging you through the space between tables. “He’s got that lovesick look about him.”
Your cheeks warmed, but the teasing wasn’t cruel. It was fond, and it made something settle easier in your chest.
“He’s always been that way,” Lucia added after a moment. “When he loves, he does it with everything. All in, no hesitation. Even as a kid.”
You let those words sink in as the masseuse continued working across your shoulders, your eyes still closed.
“Honestly, as silly as it sounds,” you said softly, “he’s shown me what love should actually feel like. I didn’t grow up seeing it like this. Not in action, not the way he gives it. And it’s been… very grounding.”
A quiet beat passed. Then Lucia spoke, her voice lower now, rich with something more tender.
“That’s what makes it special,” she said. “When you learn how to love each other in ways neither of you were ever taught.”
You let out a slow breath, grateful for the warmth in her words — for how open she’d been with you, even from the beginning of the day.
“I don’t know what I expected,” you admitted. “Being around all of you like this… but it’s more than I could’ve hoped for.”
Liv reached over to squeeze your hand. “It means something that you’re here. We’ve had a few… not-so-great potential additions to this family before… you’ve been the best potential so far.”
Anne gave a faint noise — somewhere between a scoff and a hum — but said nothing.
“I’m not trying to replace anyone,” you said quickly. “Or rush anything. I just want to be here. For him. For all of you.”
Lucia smiled. “You don’t need to try so hard, mi amor. You already belong.”
You turned your head slightly toward Lucia’s voice, eyes closing.
Afterward, wrapped in soft robes and sipping mimosas, the four of you settled into a quiet lounge area. The conversation flowed easily — more family stories, little anecdotes about the kids, and funny memories from previous family trips.
Anne, to your quiet relief, seemed more relaxed now. She was more engaged — still reserved, but less cold. Watching her interact with her daughter that first night had softened something in you too, made it easier to extend grace.
At one point, Lucia turned to you with a curious smile. “So, mi amor… we know how Harry is with you — the way he looks at you, speaks about you. But I’m curious… how do you feel about him? Especially after meeting and being with all of us?”
Your heart skipped, caught off guard by the gentle directness of the question.
You paused, then looked down at your glass for a moment. “I think… my feelings have grown more intensely since coming on this trip. I mean I was already falling for him before we left but this trip...” You smiled to yourself.
Lucia’s expression didn’t change — but something in her eyes warmed.
You continued, voice soft. “I’ve seen more of him being around all of you. I’ve felt a different part of me open up to him as well, being here.”
Anne leaned forward a little, listening intently.
“I’ve had relationships before, but none of them made me feel… valuable. It was always me trying to be enough, to convince someone I was worth staying for.”
Liv’s brows knit faintly, but she didn’t interrupt.
You exhaled, pressing your lips together before glancing back up. “But Harry — he’s different. In just a few weeks, he’s shown me more about love, more consistency, more thoughtfulness than anyone ever has. He makes me feel safe. Wanted. And I don’t take that lightly.”
Lucia reached for your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “He’s lucky to have you.”
Anne was quiet beside Liv, her hand cradling her glass. Her gaze had shifted to the window, thoughtful — but then she said, more softly than you expected, “He is.”
You blinked at her, surprised — but her tone held no venom this time. Just honesty.
Liv broke the moment with a soft laugh. “Okay, so who’s cutting onions in here?”
The others chuckled, and you felt yourself relax even more.
Lucia leaned closer to you again. “You’re already part of this family, querida. And for what it’s worth… I think Harry knew exactly what he was doing when bringing you along.”
You smiled, your eyes stinging just a little. “Thank you. That… means more than I can say.”
Liv nudged you playfully. “Yeah, so that mean you’re stuck with us now. Hope you like chaotic family group chats and chaos gremlins we seem to spawn.”
“I love both,” you laughed.
Lucia chuckled and stood, stretching slightly. “Vamos mis amores. Let’s go get our nails done before they come looking for us.”
As the four of you stood and moved toward the next room, you felt the weight of your nerves from the morning completely lift.
Harry’s POV
The sun was warm on his skin, the breeze just salty enough to taste. Waves rolled in and out in a lazy rhythm while laughter from the kids echoed around them, all chaos and joy and sunscreen-slicked limbs running barefoot across the sand.
Harry stood ankle-deep in the surf, watching little Harry and Anthony team up to build what they called a ‘mega sand fortress’ — complete with driftwood spikes and a seaweed moat.
His dad was perched on a low folding chair nearby, sunglasses on, sipping a cold beer watching the girls play in the water, while Esmeralda toddled up and down the shoreline gathering shells, holding onto her dad’s hand.
Eventually, Simon wandered over with Spencer, both carrying beers, both wearing identical “dad stances” — arms folded, shoulders sun-pinked, eyes scanning the kids while talking low.
“So how’s it going?” Simon asked, handing Harry a bottle before settling beside him in the surf.
“With the sandcastle?” Harry teased. “Apparently, according to your son, I’m not allowed to contribute unless I have a degree in architecture and a ‘license to dig.’”
Spencer chuckled. “No, smartass. He meant how’s it going with her.”
Harry smirked, but the second his eyes drifted up the beach — toward the spa where you and the women had disappeared hours ago — something in his chest softened.
“She’s… been everything,” he said quietly. “And I mean that in the least dramatic, most honest way possible.”
Simon let out a slow breath, nodding. “You look different around her. Softer. Steadier.”
Rafael gave a quiet grunt of agreement without removing his sunglasses. “Eres más como tú mismo de nuevo.” (You're more like yourself again.)
That struck a chord in Harry. It honestly felt good to be this version of himself — one that felt so free and at peace.
He tipped his beer slightly toward his dad. “That’s because she makes it easy to be myself. There’s no pretending. No performing.”
Spencer took a long sip from his bottle. “That’s rare. Especially at our age.”
“Yeah,” Harry agreed. “It is.”
For a moment, all the men went quiet, the only sound the laughter of the kids and the gentle slap of waves against their shins.
Then Simon leaned in a bit closer. “You thinkin’ about what comes next for you two?”
Harry glanced over, brow raised. “You mean like tonight’s dinner? Or—”
“No,” Simon said, nudging him. “After the trip. Back home. The real-life part. When this bubble pops.”
Harry hummed, looking back toward the water.
“I think about it all the time,” he admitted. “Not because I’m unsure. But because I’m so sure. I want her in my life. In every part of it. Waking up together. Coming home from work to her. Grocery shopping. Sunday mornings in sweatpants and coffee runs. Meeting her family. Starting something that lasts…”
Rafael shifted in his chair, finally pulling his sunglasses down to look at him. “You thinking about asking her to move in?”
Harry smiled faintly. “I’m not sure… I mean, I want to, I just don’t want to overwhelm her.”
“But you are thinking about the long game,” Spencer said.
“Absolutely,” Harry replied. “I’ve never felt this certain about someone.”
He paused and took a sip of his beer before continuing, “And it’s not just the way she makes me feel — it’s who she is. She’s grounded, smart, hard-working, loyal — kind. She doesn’t get caught up in any of the bullshit. She’s not with me for anything other than just bein’ with me.”
Rafael nodded, his expression unreadable but intent. “She told your mother somethin’ similar to that today.”
That caught Harry’s attention.
“What?”
“She told your mom and sisters — during their massage, she texted me the ‘tea’ — as she calls it. Apparently, you’ve shown her more love in a few weeks than anyone ever has. That she’s not here for the money or the name. She’s in it all for you.”
Harry’s throat tightened, and there was a warmth tightening in his chest.
“Shit,” he whispered with the biggest grin on his face.
You were telling his family all of this? You were not just confessing it to him when it was just the two of you – you were proudly saying it to those around you. That in itself, made him soar.
Simon grinned. “She’s in it, man.” He gently nudged Harry’s shoulder.
“She loves you, mijo,” Rafael added softly. “And I don’t think she even realizes how easy she makes it for the rest of us to love her too.”
Harry turned his face slightly, swallowing hard, blinking against the sting behind his eyes.
There was something about hearing it from them — these men who’d seen him at his worst, his lowest, his loneliest — and how easily they had embraced what he had with you.
“I’m going to marry her one day,” he said, quiet but firm.
Simon didn’t flinch. Spencer grinned. Rafael nodded once, slowly.
“We figured as much,” his dad said, chuckling. “You’ve already got that look when you see her.”
“What look?” He chuckled, taking another sip.
“The one I had when I met your mother,” Rafael said. “Like you’ve already made your choice, and now the rest of your life is just about showing up for her.”
Harry smiled, barely breathing, the sound of the waves lapping at his ankles grounding him.
“Good, I’m glad you’re going to,” Simon said. “She’s the best thing that’s happened to you in a long time. And I don’t just mean in love. I mean in everything, hermono.”
Harry looked back at the water, heart full and steady.
“Yeah,” he whispered. “She is.”
The late afternoon sun warmed the sand in soft golden ripples, the breeze coming off the water warm and salty, tousling Harry’s curls as he leaned back in the lounge chair, book in hand, sunglasses perched on his nose.
The laughter of the kids drifted around him like music — somewhere to his right, little Harry and Anthony were trying to balance a hermit crab on a plastic shovel, while Simon and Spencer debated over whose sandcastle tower was structurally sounder with the girls. His dad had retreated to the shade of a wide beach umbrella, sipping beer and pretending not to be completely invested in the great sand architecture debate.
Harry was content, lost in a rare moment of quiet as he waited for you and the rest of the women to come back. That was until he felt the whisper of soft fingertips down the side of his neck, followed by the warm press of lips to his cheek.
He blinked, a slow grin spreading beneath his stubbled jaw as he pulled his gaze from the pages.
“Hey, baby,” he said, voice husky and warm with surprise, already reaching up to catch your wrist gently and pull you closer.
You leaned down over the back of his chair, smiling. “Miss me?”
“Every damn second.” His voice dropped slightly as his hand slid up to cradle your cheek. He tilted his head up to kiss you — soft, slow, like a breath caught between the waves.
When he pulled back, he let his thumb brush along your jaw before nodding toward the shore. “Come walk with me. Tell me all about it...”
You laced your fingers with his as he stood, and the two of you strolled slowly toward the edge of the tide — quiet at first, shoulders brushing, your hand warm in his.
The sound of the waves grew louder as your feet sank into wet sand, the surf curling around your ankles. Once you stopped at the water’s edge, Harry moved behind you, arms slipping around your waist, tugging you gently back against his chest. He dipped his head to nuzzle just behind your ear, his cheek brushing your shoulder.
“Mmm, you smell like citrus and something fancy,” he murmured. “Let me guess — spa oils?”
“Hmm… probably a mix of eucalyptus, rosewater, and the fear of saying the wrong thing to your mom,” you teased.
He chuckled against your skin. “You could say absolutely anything and they’d still adore you, sweetheart.”
You let your hands rest lightly over his. “I know…” You smiled as you looked out towards the horizon, “It went well,” you murmured. “Better than I expected…”
“I can tell,” he said. “You were glowing when you walked up. That’s not just the facial and sauna talking.”
You giggled lightly and turned your face slightly toward him. “What about you? How was kid duty with all boys?”
“Loud,” he said dryly. “A little sandy. Possibly chaotic. But good. Real good.”
He kissed the side of your head and stayed there for a beat, just breathing you in.
And then something shifted and something struck him to just say ‘fuck it and ask’.
He let his arms loosen just enough to turn you in them, his hands settling on your waist. The lightness in his expression softened into something deeper — something more weighted.
You tilted your head. “Oh uh, why the serious face? What’s going on?” You started to joke, feeling a bit nervous with how the energy suddenly shifted.
Harry lightly chuckled but then took a moment before answering, his thumbs brushing gentle circles on your hips.
“I’ve been thinking,” he said, “about when we get home.”
Your breath hitched slightly, but you nodded, “Yeah?”
“Not anything crazy,” he assured quickly, reading your pulse in your eyes. “Just… maybe easing into something more real? A little drawer space. Your favorite mug in my kitchen. Maybe you steal a shirt, I steal more of your chocolate-covered raspberries that you love — you know, domestic chaos?”
You smiled, but he kept going.
“I’m not trying to rush,” he said. “But I want you there. Not just for sleepovers. Not just for weekends. I want you to come home after a long day at work and we eat dinner together. I want to kiss you before heading into the office in the mornings. I want to see your shoes in the closet. I want to hold you every single night, not just on the nights our schedules line up. I want to make a life with you — real and messy and boring and beautiful…”
Your chest tightened, that familiar flutter of warmth spreading under your ribs like a tide rising.
“I’ve been thinking about that too,” you whispered. “And the truth? All of that sounds… amazing.”
Harry’s grin broke like sunlight. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” you whispered, mirroring his smile.
There was a beat of silence before you added slyly, “But I’m warning you — I have at least nine plants. They’re all very emotionally attached to me. In fact, one of them’s named Edwin.”
Harry barked a laugh, the seriousness dissolving into something warmer, lighter.
“Edwin is welcome, along with the others. In fact, the place could use a little greenery,” he said, lifting you by the waist suddenly, making you squeal as he spun you around slowly in his arms. “But only if you promise to give me the big spoon title permanently.”
“Only if you earn it,” you teased, arms wrapping around his neck, leaning in.
“Oh, I’ll earn it,” he said with a wicked grin. “Every damn night.”
You laughed breathlessly as he kissed your lips slowly, setting you back down ever so gently onto your feet.
In that moment, it was perfect — the sun setting behind you, his lips on yours, and his heart pressed fully to yours with the promise of this becoming more than you could imagine when you got back home.
Chapter 9
Summary:
Your last evening in the Maldives is nothing short of exciting.
Chapter Text
Tonight was the final night of your trip here in the Maldives.
The day had been filled with you and Harry street shopping with Simon and Liv, the kids being watched by Anne, Spencer and his parents, taking them to a local splash pad.
The four of you ended the afternoon with one last walk on the beach, coming up with plans to go on another trip together in a few months without the kids. Harry and Simon were adamant about you and Liv being friends and spending more time together now that you'd all spent more time together.
It was endearing — both of them so passionate about the women in their lives being close. You couldn’t help but feel a sense of belonging from how they spoke about the future together.
It helped create a barrier from all the insecurities that would creep into your mind here and there. The whispers you felt you had to continually shove down.
That evening, the sun had started to slip lower, painting the bedroom in soft, molten gold. The ocean breeze drifted lazily through the open doors, stirring the white linen curtains like a breath, and the distant sound of waves gave everything a dreamy hush.
You stepped out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, your skin still dewy from the shower. Harry was already dressed in slacks, a dark blue dress shirt unbuttoned, standing at the mirror, running a hand through his curls. His eyes flicked to you—and stayed there.
“Christ,” he muttered, his gaze shameless. “You’re not even trying, and I’m two seconds from losing it.”
You smirked as you walked past him, casually dropping your towel as you reached the bed.
Harry inhaled sharply. “Now, that was on intentional, querida.”
You laughed under your breath as you picked up your dress—the backless, light champagne slip that had earned his stunned silence earlier when you pulled it out to steam. You stepped into it slowly, smoothing it up over your hips, letting the silk glide over your skin like a second layer.
As you adjusted the straps and turned to check the side in the mirror, you caught his reflection behind you. He was frozen, eyes devouring every inch of you.
“You gonna put your shirt on or just stand there panting?” you teased.
He blinked, then narrowed his eyes. “I’m trying to hold it together over here, and you’re making it incredibly difficult, baby.”
You turned slowly, the fabric hugging every curve. “I know.”
He moved toward you, buttoning his shirt while he walked, “Fuck…” he muttered under his breath, a lazy grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You tryin’ to kill me before dinner? Slowly?”
You raised a brow and turned to face the dresser, casually digging through your things. “You said fancy, so I figured I’d take my time? Make sure I look my best.”
“Oh, take your time,” he murmured, stepping behind you and brushing a strand of hair off your shoulder so he could press a kiss there. “I don’t mind being late. Hell, they can start without us.” he suggested with a husky voice, kissing your shoulder again.
You smirked. “You’re the one who said your mother made the reservation for seven sharp. And I don’t think she’ll be charmed if we show up an hour late just because you couldn’t keep it in your pants.”
He grinned against your neck, his hands finding your waist. “One hour? My love, you insult me.”
You giggled, then gently pushed him back with your hip. “Behave, Castillo.”
He sighed dramatically and flopped down on the edge of the bed, watching you sort through your jewelry options. “I’ll behave once we are at that table and have no choice but to behave.”
You hummed, twirling a bit in the mirror, looking at the necklace you’d put on then turned toward him and looked down at yourself, smoothing over the fabric, “Can you tell I'm only wearing the dress?”
Harry paused, his cheeks turning pink. “What do you mean?”
You looked at him innocently, smoothing the silk over your hips. “I mean... lines would show. The fabric’s thin. I can’t risk wearing anything under...”
He stared at you like you’d just told him gravity stopped working.
“You’re not wearing any underwear?” he asked, voice strangled.
You grinned, backing up just enough to give him a full view. “Nope.”
Harry looked skyward like he needed divine intervention.
“Voy a arder,” (I’m going to combust) he whispered. “I swear to God.”
You walked over slowly, stepping in between his legs, tugged lightly at the collar of his shirt, fixing it for him. “Arder?”
His hands came to rest on your waist, fingers flexing slightly as he stood. “Combust, mi vida…”
You hummed and smirked, “Just wait til after dessert to do that, hmm?” you said, brushing your lips against the edge of his jaw then kissing it lightly.
He exhaled a breath that shook a little. “You know what I love?”
You looked up at him. “What would that be?”
“That you know exactly what you’re doing to me. And you’re enjoying every second of it.”
You grinned, unrepentant. “I’m just soaking up my last night in paradise.”
He chuckled, but it was low and full of tension. His eyes were hungry. “Te ves como el paraíso.” (You look like paradise)
You were just about to lean into him again when he took a step back—barely, reluctantly.
“If I kiss you,” he said, voice tight, “we’re not making it to the restaurant.”
You tilted your head, amused. Your ran your eyes down his body, then back up and landed at his waist, biting your bottom lip, “Is that so?”
“Temptress,” he muttered under his breath, running a hand down his face as he grabbed his watch and tried to get himself under control. “You’re actually sinful.”
You walked past him toward the vanity, letting out a small chuckle then grabbed your purse, “I’ll be sure to tell your mother that when I’m charming her over appetizers.”
He grumbled something to himself, making you giggle before you both headed out to the restaurant.
The restaurant terrace was straight out of a dream—nestled into the hillside with palm trees casting shadows across candlelit tables. The stone floors were worn smooth, and amber lanterns glowed from every corner, flickering against the warm cream linens and polished wine glasses. In the distance, the sun melted across the horizon, leaving the sky streaked in lavender and gold.
You’d barely made it to your seat before Harry’s hand found your thigh under the table.
He was subtle about it—at first. A casual palm resting just above your knee while the family passed around bread and sipped wine. He smiled easily, laughed at all the right moments, kept up with the conversation about family trips, and who had been the most sunburnt—but his fingers had a mission.
You crossed your legs. He squeezed in protest.
You shifted closer, loosening them a tad. He dragged his fingertips a fraction higher.
And then you turned yourself slightly and leaned in and whispered as your hand went behind him. Your fingertips trailed slowly down his back, “Careful now. We wouldn’t want a scandal on the last night here...”
Harry blinked once, goosebumps growing up his neck as your fingers went down. His throat bobbed as his hand stilled on your thigh.
“Not even a little one?” he murmured, his voice low and almost reverent.
You tilted your head and kissed his cheek before whispering in his ear. “Perhaps...”
You then turned back to focus on the table, taking a sip of your wine.
His hand gripped harder. You bit back a smile.
Around you, the table hummed with the sound of forks and glasses and chatter about how the next family trip should be in Greece—Santorini or maybe Crete. The women had already decided on a girls’ trip for next month and looped you in with zero room for refusal. You laughed, agreed, and made polite promises to send your schedule when you got back home.
Harry leaned in towards the end of the appetizers being served, lips ghosting your ear. “I’m going to lose my fucking mind.”
You smiled sweetly and whispered back, “You’re holding up well, all things considered.” Then, you uncrossed your legs a bit in an attempt to further push him towards insanity.
“I am hanging on by a thread,” he growled, hand slipping a few inches higher under the table.
You caught his wrist gently. “Careful... Your mother is right there.”
He groaned under his breath, head tilting back briefly, praying for strength. “Don’t do that voice.”
“What voice?”
He turned to look at you fully, eyes narrowed with hunger. “That fake innocent bedroom voice. The one that pretends you don’t know exactly what you’re doing to me.”
You raised your brows, feigning offense. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“You’re killing me,” he muttered. “Me estás matando. Ese vestido. Esa voz. Incluso hueles delicioso.” (You're killing me. That dress. That voice. You even smell fucking delicious.)
His hand slid higher again—knuckles brushing the inside of your thigh. You let him touch, just barely, then shifted your hips, creating delicious friction that had his jaw flexing hard.
“Something wrong? You look like you’re in pain…” You murmured softly, your voice a little breathier than you meant it to be.
“Because I am.” He leaned even closer, voice so low no one else could hear. “I’ve had to sit through small talk, and family bonding, and polite smiles—when all I can think about is how wet you are under this table and how badly I want to find out if I’m right.”
You sucked in a sharp breath, your thighs pressing together involuntarily. His eyes dropped to your mouth and lingered there.
“You’re a cruel woman,” he whispered almost painfully.
You bit your bottom lip. “You like it, though.”
“God help me, I do.”
You looked around the table for a moment, everyone wrapped in their own bubbles and conversations with each other.
You leaned in again, brushing your nose along the edge of his jaw. “Tell me what you’d do if we weren’t surrounded by your entire family right now.”
He exhaled hard, adjusting his hips. “I’d pull that dress up, drag you onto my lap, and not stop until you were moaning into my mouth.”
Your pulse kicked, breath stuttering.
His voice dropped further. “Then I want your legs over my shoulders. My head between those pretty little thighs. Your hands in my hair while you scream my name, while my tongue had an early dessert.”
A soft gasp caught in your throat.
He smiled, dark and dangerous. “You asked.”
You dragged your hand up his thigh, your fingers barely grazing the obvious strain beneath his slacks. He choked on a groan, eyes slamming shut for half a second.
When they reopened, they were dark and full of lust, heat, and heat.
Right then, your arm brushed his mom’s as she leaned over to pass a dish, and it was like snapping out of a dream. You both straightened, blinked, and tried to look like you hadn’t been moments away from losing your minds.
While you waited for entrees to arrive, Simon was talking about Greece again. Anne brought up wanting to do a big family hike in the fall.
But your heart was thudding. And Harry’s hand was trembling slightly on the table with each passing minute.
He all of a sudden leaned forward slightly and held up his phone. “Excuse me for a sec. I’ve got to take a quick work call.”
He rose, smooth and composed, but before stepping away, he bent to kiss your cheek, lips barely brushing your skin.
Then he whispered, warm and rough against your ear:
“Meet me in the bathroom. Five minutes.”
And just like that—he was gone.
You sat there, wine glass in hand, breath shallow, skin prickling with anticipation.
You were out of your chair in four.
The bathroom was tucked down a short corridor just off the restaurant terrace — marble floors, amber wall sconces casting a moody glow over the stone. It was quiet inside, save for the faint murmur of clinking glasses and laughter from the dinner crowd outside.
You pushed the door open and stepped inside, heart thrumming in your chest. You weren’t sure what exactly you expected.
But you definitely weren’t prepared for Harry to already be there, leaning against the sink, sleeves rolled to his elbows, top two buttons undone, jaw tight and eyes dark.
You didn’t even get two full steps inside the bathroom before you heard his voice — low, dark, commanding.
“Lock the door.”
Your stomach dropped in the best way.
Your fingers trembled as you reached back and turned the lock. The click had barely finished echoing before you heard his footsteps — slow, deliberate, predatory. You turned just in time to see him close the distance, eyes blazing with desire.
Before you could say another word, his mouth crashed into yours.
It was all teeth and tongue, heat and need, want. His hands gripped your face, tilting your mouth to his, drinking you in like he’d been starved. You moaned into him, your fingers tangling in the open collar of his shirt as he walked you backwards until your back hit the bathroom wall in the heat of it all.
His lips dragged down your neck, tongue flicking against your pulse point, teeth grazing your collarbone like he wanted to mark every inch of skin he could reach. His hand making it's way to pull your dress up.
“God, this body…” he groaned. “This fucking dress, baby…”
You grinned wickedly against his mouth. “I should wear it more often if I get this reaction out of you—”
He silenced you with a kiss — slow and deep this time, tongues brushing, his hand inching higher until his fingers slipped between your thighs.
You gasped into his mouth.
“Oh fuck,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to yours. “You really weren’t lying. You’re so wet for me already.”
You whimpered, grinding into his hand. “Harry—please—”
He kissed you hard again, his voice wrecked and low. “Tell me what you want.”
“You.”
He chuckled darkly. “You already have me, mi vida. Every inch. Every fucking heartbeat. But right now…” He pressed his palm flat against you, making you softly cry out, “You want my mouth or my fingers first?”
The question punched through you like lightning.
You pulled him close by his shirt collar, lips ghosting his. “Why not both?”
That earned you a growl — an actual, visceral growl — as he walked you backward until your hips hit the counter. His hands dragged up the slit of the dress, parting it slowly, reverently.
He kissed you slowly and deeply once more before dropping to his knees.
He looked up through thick lashes like he was about to make a meal out of you, his smirk sinful. “Spread your legs for me, baby. Let me taste what I’ve been dreaming about all fucking night.”
You didn’t hesitate.
He hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, lifting your thigh as he buried his mouth against you — tongue dragging a slow, devastating path that made your foot slip off the counter.
“Ohmygod baby, fuck—,” you gasped, your hips jerking, your eyes shutting and head lulling back.
“Keep your eyes on me,” he murmured against the inside of your thigh. “Let me see what I do to you.”
Then his tongue was on you again — broad, slow strokes that made you see stars. He moaned as he tasted you, devoured you, his fingers digging into your thighs to keep you in place, his nose pressed against your clit. A moment later, he slid two fingers inside, curling and stroking, perfectly in sync with his mouth working your clit.
He fucked you like that with his fingers, tongue working circles at a relentless pace, until you were gasping, thighs shaking.
You were already spiraling, sweat beading on your spine, one hand gripping his shirt on his shoulder while the other braced against the counter top behind you.
“Right there—oh god, don’t stop—”
He ravished you, pushing you closer and closer to the edge until your whole body tensed, your breath broke in the back of your throat.
"Fuck, I'm going to cum—" You cried out, hips bucking against him, hand flying to his hair as he groaned, anchoring you to him.
“That’s it,” he murmured between licks. “Let me hear you. Let me taste how good I make you feel. Want you shaking on my tongue.”
And you did — so close already, with the way he moved his fingers inside you while his mouth worshipped you like he was addicted to your sweetness.
“You taste so fucking good,” he groaned lapping your up. “So perfect. My perfect girl…”
You nodded frantically, looking down at him, barely coherent, gripping his hair tight as your hips bucked your cunt against the bridge of his nose, mumbling over and over, “Fuck, fuck, fuck—”
“That’s it,” he growled. “Come for me again. Be a good girl and fall apart.”
Your cry echoed off the tile as the orgasm hit again, white-hot and blinding, hips trembling as he coaxed it through, never relenting, licking you through the waves like he wanted to drown in them.
When he stood, his mouth was slick, his pupils blown, and his lips curved in the most satisfied, smug smirk you’d ever seen.
“God damn, baby” he breathed, moving in to kiss you with tongue and teeth and a moan. He pulled your hips against his, your drenched cunt pressed up aginst the aching bulge in his slacks. “You’re so fuckin’ perfect.”
Your lips moved down to lightly suck the skin under his shirt and neck, softly moaning as he began rolling your hips against his, hands tightly gripping your hips.
You kissed sloppy wet kisses up his neck and jaw before finding his lips again, cupping his cheeks, pulling him closer to you, leaning back towards the mirror — pulling him with you, purring against his lips, “Baby, please — please fuck me,”
“Fuck you?” he growled against your lips, then helped you to your feet before walking you backwards towards the wall.
“Please, Harry, I—” You said while stepping backwards, against his lips.
He pressed you up against the wall beside the door, hard and thick through his slacks, grinding slowly against you. You gasped, hands on his chest, your back against the cool tile.
“You did that,” he said through clenched teeth. “Sat there all innocent and smug, driving me fucking insane. I should bend you over that counter and fuck you until you can’t walk back to the table.”
You whimpered. “Then do it.”
He hissed, one hand sliding beneath your dress, the other palming your breast.
“I swear to God,” he muttered, grinding harder. “You say one more thing like that and I’m gonna lose it.”
You arched against him, breathless as your hands combed through his hair, then tugged him closer against your lips. “Please lose it.”
That was it, you feel the snap of self-restraint he'd been trying to maintain.
He pulled your dress up, and unbuckled his pants with shaky hands. He didn’t even pull them down all the way—just enough.
“Look at me,” he whispered, lining himself up.
You did.
And the second he pushed in—hot, thick, stretching you open—your head fell back with a gasp.
“Oh fuck, yes,” he growled. “So fucking tight. Always so tight for me.”
Your hands gripped his shoulders, mouth parted as he fucked into you slow, then faster, rhythm building like fire through your veins.
Every thrust was desperate. Hungry. Full of everything you’d both been holding back all night.
He lifted your leg around his hip, changing the angle, hitting that perfect spot that made your mouth fall open in a silent scream.
“That’s it, baby,” he panted and watched your skin prickle with goosebumps, your eyebrows pinch and your chest heave with each soft moan.
“Yeah? Right fucking there?” he grunted.
You couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe.
His hands were everywhere: your cheek, your waist, your ass, your thigh, then they were sliding up your torso, pulling your dress down just enough to expose your breasts, which he cupped, kneaded, and worshipped.
“You’re so fucking perfect,” he whispered, trailing kisses along your neck. “You make me fucking feral.”
Every thrust hit deep, angling perfectly, making you cry out each time his hips met yours with that sharp, obscene sound of skin against skin.
He was relentless — focused, growling into your skin as he muttered filth against your ear.
“You feel that? The way this pussy grips me like it was made for me?”
You nodded, eyes squeezed shut, head pressed back against the wall.
“Say it,” he ordered as he started to speed up. “Say who this pussy belongs to.”
“You,” you gasped, voice wrecked. “You, Harry. It’s yours—”
He let out a chuckle, a fucking chuckle — but annoyingly it only steered you faster down the hill towards orgasm.
“Don’t stop, fuck—” you gasped, panting heavily.
But just as the pressure inside you threatened to break again, there was a sudden rattle at the door.
You both froze.
“Occupied!” he called out, slightly panting.
He leaned forward after the both of you heard footsteps leaving, lips brushing your ear as he whispered, “Now, where were we?”
A shiver tore through you, and with a slow thrust of his hips, you were right back on the edge.
He picked up the pace again, thrusting deep and unrelenting. You were unraveling — legs shaking, walls fluttering around him, the heat between your thighs reaching a fever pitch.
“Let go for me,” he growled. “Be a good girl and come for me.”
And god — you did. It tore through you like a tidal wave, your vision going white as your climax rocked through your whole body, made all the more intense by his cock driving you into oblivion.
You were still trembling, chest heaving, when he slowly pulled out, kissing your shoulder.
“Turn around,” he whispered.
You blinked at him, dazed. “What?”
He leaned in and kissed you, slow and deep, before he gently unwound your leg from around his waist. “I want to see you,” he murmured, guiding you with him as he walked back and then spinning you around, gently, reverently, until your chest faced the marble counter and your eyes met your reflection in the mirror.
Your dress was rumpled and pushed up around your waist, skin flushed, eyes glassy with lust. You barely recognized yourself — but God, he looked wrecked. Hair messy from your fingers, lips swollen, shirt halfway untucked, his chest rising and falling like he’d been chasing you for miles.
“I want you to watch,” he said, low and rough against your ear. “Want you to see how fucking perfect you are like this. Dripping for me. Taking me so well.”
You whimpered as he bent you slightly over the counter, his hand running up your spine, down your hips — claiming, savoring you.
“Look how beautiful you are,” he whispered, eyes locked with yours in the mirror. “This body. This pussy. All mine.”
He lined himself up and entered you again, slow but firm, watching the way your face crumpled as you stretched around him. You moaned his name, and he groaned in return, snapping his hips forward with a little more force.
“You feel that?” he said through gritted teeth. “That’s what happens when you whisper things in my ear with no panties under your dress at the god damn family dinner table.”
“Harry—” you mewled.
“I’ve been patient,” he growled as his hips snapped. “I made small talk. I laughed at Simon’s stupid lobster joke. I suggested goin’ to France. And the whole time, I was thinking about this. About how tight you’d be. How much I wanted to bend you over something and fuck you just like this.”
Your knees nearly gave out, but his hand slid down your belly, then between your thighs, finding your clit and rubbing in circles that made your eyes roll back and a shaky broken moan get stuck in the back of your throat.
He picked up the pace, panting now, the slap of skin on skin echoing off the tile and glass. His fingers never stopped moving, keeping time with every thrust until you were trembling all over again.
“Look at yourself,” he said, voice hoarse, pulling you up so your back was flush to his chest. His arm across your chest, hand gently under your jaw to hold your head where he wanted it.
“So gorgeous. So fucking mine,” he grunted into your ear.
“I—I’m—” Your voice broke as the pressure started to crest.
And then—
Jiggle jiggle jiggle.
You both froze once again, except a moan escaped at the sudden halt of ecstasy.
Harry moved his hand over your mouth and called out — perfectly calm, perfectly composed:
“Maintenance! Be done shortly!”
You let out a muffled squeak against his palm, and he chuckled darkly, still buried deep inside you. You glared at him in the mirror, eyes wide.
“Shortly?” you mumbled against his hand, breathless and annoyed.
He leaned forward and growled, hot against your ear, “Oh no, baby. I’m going to take my sweet fucking time.”
And then he started moving again, not caring if they'd left.
Deliberate. Deep. Devastating.
Your moans were muffled by his hand, but your eyes told him everything — the way they fluttered, the way your back arched, the way your hips chased every stroke like you were starving for it.
“You gonna come for me again?” he whispered, licking the shell of your ear. “Gonna fall apart while you watch me ruin you?” He taunted.
You nodded, desperate and pathetic, grinding back against him.
He pulled his hand away and turned your head so he could kiss you again — open-mouthed, messy, dizzying — before turning your head back so your eyes stayed on the mirror.
“Don’t look away,” he said. “I want you to remember how good I make you feel. How much I love you. This body. This face. These sounds.”
You cried out as your climax finally ripped through you — hard, consuming, your body tightening around him until he cursed low and grunted, spilling into you with a shudder and a growl of your name.
You collapsed forward, breathing like you’d run a marathon, while he leaned into your back, kissing your shoulder and neck.
For a long moment, you both just stayed there — tangled, breathless, clinging.
The air was thick with heat, your breaths still uneven and overlapping as Harry gently pulled out with a hiss.
He was soft with his touch, careful, like he didn't want to overwhelm you.
You slumped forward against the marble counter, eyes fluttering shut, your palms pressing to the cool surface as your thighs trembled.
Harry reached for a nearby towel, his other hand smoothing down your spine as he pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder. “Hey,” he murmured, quiet and sweet now. “You with me?”
You nodded slowly, blinking open your eyes to meet his reflection.
He smiled — that small, private version of his grin meant only for you. “Good.”
You watched as he gently cleaned you up, taking his time, careful and tender. Not a trace of embarrassment. Not a hint of anything but devotion in the way his fingers moved — worshipful, slow, even when your breath caught softly at the sensitivity.
“Sorry,” he whispered, brushing a kiss to your lower back. “I bet you're sensitive…”
You smiled lazily, reaching back to thread your fingers through his messy curls. “No need to apologize. I just… might need a moment before I can walk straight.”
Harry chuckled against your skin, and you felt the tension in him shift — that gentle exhale that came when he knew you were okay.
“You’re dangerous,” you murmured, turning and letting him help you stand upright. You leaned your hip against the counter, still catching your breath. “You know that, right? When you get like this and get me like that...”
His hands settled at your waist, eyes scanning your face like he was memorizing every flush and glow. “I’m dangerous?” He arched a brow, amused. “You’re the one who showed up to a family dinner in a dress with no underwear. You started the war, baby.”
Your lips curved into a smirk. “I’m sorry, was that your way of filing a formal complaint? Bending me over the counter?”
He leaned in close, brushing his nose against yours, eyes dark with playful warning. “That was my way of filing a satisfaction survey — which I plan on giving another one later tonight, if you’re up for it.”
Your breath hitched again — but this time it was softer, lighter, woven with laughter and affection. He kissed you sweetly, gently, like he was pouring water over the fire he’d just started.
Then his thumb traced the curve of your cheek, and his voice dipped into something vulnerable again. “You sure you’re okay? I wasn’t too rough?”
You nodded, reaching up to rest your palm against his chest. “Yeah. I’m more than okay.”
He bent slightly and gently helped straighten your dress, smoothing the hem with care, brushing away wrinkles and adjusting the neckline before glancing toward the mirror. “Hair still looks perfect,” he said, stealing one more kiss. “They won’t suspect a thing.”
You snorted. “Please. Liv will know.”
“She won’t say anything.”
“No, but she’ll wink or smirk, and I will explode with embarrassment.”
Harry grinned, smoothing his shirt and rebuttoning the top few buttons. He tucked it back into his slacks, then turned to you. “Come here, mi amor.”
You let out an anxious breath and stepped closer, and he took your lipstick from your bag, popping it open and offering it like a peace offering. “Allow me?”
You couldn't help but smile before you tilted your chin up as he applied it gently, his thumb resting under your jaw, eyes flicking between your lips and your eyes like he couldn’t decide what he loved more. When he was done, he kissed the corner of your mouth, leaving the faintest smudge of approval behind.
You laughed under your breath. “You’re a menace.”
“And yet, you followed me into a bathroom,” he whispered as he clasped your purse closed.
You rolled your eyes and nudged him with your hip. “I plead insanity.”
He chuckled, then reached for your hand and kissed your knuckles, one by one. “I’m serious, though,” he murmured. “You okay?”
You nodded again — this time slower, more sure. “I’m with you. I’ll always be ok.”
That was all he needed to hear.
He glanced toward the door, then smoothed a hand over your hip.
He grinned. “Give me two minutes. I’ll go back first. You follow afterwards?”
You raised a brow and gave him a teasing look. “To make it look like we didn’t just destroy each other in a five-star bathroom?”
“Exactly.” He winked. “We’re discreet, darling.”
You both burst out laughing as he slipped out the door, leaving you breathless and glowing against the counter.
When he returned to the table, Harry slid back into his seat with casual ease — too casual, which was exactly why Simon leaned in and smirked behind his glass of bourbon.
“Oi,” Simon muttered, his voice low and conspiratorial, “just a heads up… your fly’s open.”
Harry’s eyes darted down with alarm, hands flying to his lap before Simon burst into soft laughter.
“Kidding,” he grinned, then nodded toward the faint smudge just beneath Harry’s jaw. “But you do have some lipstick on your neck. Might wanna deal with that before Mom or Anne notices.”
Harry let out a sharp breath, scrubbing at the spot with his napkin and shaking his head with a dry smile. “Eres un gilipollas.” (You’re an asshole)
“Maybe,” Simon shrugged, sipping his drink. “But I’m not the one who just defiled a bathroom stall in a five-star resort.”
Harry chuckled, muttering under his breath, “Wasn’t a stall. It was very clean. Very… reflective.” He looked at his brother and grinned, knowing that'd shut him up.
Simon made a face. “Jesus Christ, details not needed. God damn…”
Just then, the glass door at the far end of the patio opened — and you stepped back out.
Hair was a little messier than before. Glow suspiciously radiant. Lips still slightly kiss-bitten.
As you stepped back onto the patio, the golden lanterns hanging above flickered in the island breeze, casting warm light over the table where Harry’s family sat mid-conversation.
You adjusted your dress discreetly, trying not to think about the very public indiscretion you and Harry had just partaken in. You swore your skin was still buzzing, lips tingling, thighs aching in the best way.
You slid into your seat, avoiding eye contact with everyone. Harry leaned over and gently kissed your cheek, trying to calm you as you looked a tad stiff.
You let out a breath and took a sip of water, feeling more at ease as you felt his hand land at the small of your back.
Spencer glanced over at you both, then turned more to Harry, then raised both eyebrows and grinned. “You alright, man? You were gone a while.”
“Yeah,” Harry said smoothly, reaching for his water. “Sorry, work call ran long.”
Liv gave you the most unsubtle side-eye you’d ever received.
You kept your face forward.
‘Do not engage. Don’t make eye contact. You will crack.’ Was all you could think.
Harry’s mom smiled warmly. “Everything alright, mijo? Hopefully it wasn’t Clarkson again.”
“Oh, no,” Harry said, casually brushing it off. “Just some quick logistics that Peter needed to verify with me.”
You reached for your drink, only to realize your hand was shaking slightly. You clasped it in your lap instead and took another breath to calm yourself.
“So,” Spencer said from across the table, “Y/N — what was your favorite part of the trip this week?”
You froze. You could feel Harry glance sideways at you. You opened your mouth, only to come up blank.
Because your favorite part of the trip was currently sitting beside you when his head was between your legs no more than twenty minutes ago. And now he was sitting there with your taste still on his tongue.
“I—uh,” you stammered, blinking hard. “I really liked the beach? Oh, and the snorkeling!" you almost shouted. "The water was really wet— I mean…”
Simon snorted into his drink.
‘Wet? Who the fuck says the water is wet?’
You cleared your throat and rambled, “It was really fun! Saw some turtles and fish, and rays, and it was warm and the water was clear—”
You wanted to die. This was utter embarrassment.
Harry bit his lip to hold back a laugh.
Anne leaned forward, smirking as she cut in, “Was it the coral gardens that you two liked? Or was there some... other reef Harry wanted to explore?”
Harry choked on his drink. You coughed, practically inhaling your cocktail.
“What reef, mija? Was there another one we missed?” Harry’s dad asked, genuinely puzzled.
Anne bit her lip, clearly amused by the sibling blackmail pot of gold she knew she had just struck with her Harry. “Oh, just... You know. The local ecosystem...”
'Please, God, make it end.'
Harry’s mom frowned slightly, turning toward her. “Which reef was this? We never made it past the lagoon side of the property.”
“It’s just—one of the hidden ones,” Harry said quickly, wiping his mouth with his napkin. “Anyway, Mama, didn’t you mention they changed chefs at that Mediterranean place near your book club? What happened with that?” He attempted to steer the conversation in another direction.
“Oh, don’t even get me started,” she said, turning to him with all the drama of a woman deeply offended by poor seasoning. “They replaced Marcus — Marcus! — with some kid fresh out of culinary school who thinks sumac belongs in everything. You know I love fusion, but there’s a limit.”
As she launched into the great sumac scandal of 2025, Harry leaned toward you and whispered, “Knew that would get her off the trail.”
You exhaled, heart still racing. “Anne is a menace...”
He smirked, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “I nearly lost it when she said reef.”
“You’re never living this down.” You joked.
“Neither are you, coral girl.” He teased.
You reached for your wine, trying to act natural. Across the table, Liv lifted her glass toward you in a slow, knowing toast. You refused to look at Anne, who was now smirking like the devil herself at you and Harry as she listened to her mom rant.
Harry leaned in, just close enough for you to hear, “It was wet?”
“Shut up,” you hissed under your breath, cheeks burning.
“You’re glowing,” he teased, pressing a quick kiss to your shoulder.
“I’m mortified.” You turned to him, trying not to smile.
“You’re adorable.” He cooed, fingers softly caressing your back behind your chair.
“You’re the worst.” You lied.
“You didn’t seem to think so 10 minutes ago when you were—”
You elbowed him under the table so hard he coughed.
As the conversation swirled back into the usual family chaos — debates over where the Thanksgiving should be, jokes about who snuck in the best naps on the beach (it was between Spencer, who was buried in the sand by all the kids, and Simon, who fell off his chair and got sand in his mouth), and Liv still ranting about the girls’ getaway next month — Harry slipped his hand under the table and laced your fingers together.
He leaned in again, voice quiet but playful.
“For the record, next time, I’m not waiting for dessert.”
You turned to him and couldn’t help but smirk.
“You say that like you did this time.”
He grinned. “Touché.”
Early the next morning, the airfield was hazy with a light mist, the sun barely cresting the edge of the horizon as the caravan of sleek black SUVs pulled up to the private tarmac.
Everyone looked tired — tousled hair, oversized sunglasses, coffee cups glued to hands like lifelines. A few yawns were exchanged instead of words as the adults slowly spilled out of the cars, stretching and complaining half-heartedly about the hour. The children were slowly being taken from the cars to load into the jet, all of them passed out asleep.
“This is inhumane,” Liv mumbled, pulling a cardigan tighter around her shoulders. “Vacation should end at noon, not sunrise.”
“Agreed,” Simon said through a yawn. “This was Harry’s idea. Let the record show.”
“No, this was the flight crew’s idea,” Harry defended with a smirk, unloading one of his parents’ suitcases from the trunk of one of the cars. “I just booked it.”
Anne squinted at him. “Still suspicious.”
You stifled a laugh as you grabbed your own carry-on from the back of the car, slinging it over your shoulder and heading toward the steps of the private jet — the same one you’d arrived in with his family just days ago.
But just as you moved to hand your bag to one of the ground crew helping out, Harry’s voice stopped you.
“That won’t be necessary.”
You paused, mid-motion, turning to look at him. “What?”
Harry smiled, one of those soft, secretive smiles that made your stomach dip.
He stepped closer, gently taking the bag from your hand and passing it to another attendant — one in a different uniform, who then started walking towards a smaller jet positioned just across the tarmac.
Your brows furrowed as you followed the attendant.
“Wait… that’s not—”
“We’re flying separate,” he said softly, the morning breeze lifting the messy strands of his hair. “Just the two of us.”
You blinked. “What?”
“I figured we could use a little more time. Just us. One last quiet stretch before real life crashes back in.”
A flush bloomed in your chest. Your heart did a little flip.
“You chartered a separate jet... for the two of us?”
Harry gave a small, proud shrug. “Couldn’t help myself.”
“Oh for God’s sake!” Anne groaned dramatically from behind you. “Haven’t you two had enough alone time? You disappeared around one too many corners and last night you barely made it to the entrees…” She teased.
“That’s because your brother has wandering hands,” you said under your breath.
Liv snorted as she heard him it walking past you.
Simon slung an arm around Harry’s shoulders and leaned in. “You sure it’s not because she’s trying to escape my dad jokes? Possibly Anne’s ramblings about Nobu’s new decorator?”
“Oh, believe me, she’s not trying to escape those things — I am,” Harry said deadpan.
Their parents chuckled, watching the teasing unfold with fondness. His mom approached and pulled you in for a soft hug.
“You take care of him,” she said. “And yourself.”
“I will,” you promised, a little caught off guard by the emotion welling up in your throat. “Thank you for—” You looked down shyly for a moment, then back up at her, “Thank you for everything.”
She touched your cheek fondly, “Thank you for loving my sweet boy.”
You nodded and pulled her in for another hug.
His dad clapped Harry’s shoulder and gave him a nod. “Safe flight, son. Don’t be a stranger when you’re back, yes?”
“I won’t. And thank you. For everything.” He turned to give his dad a tight, loving hug.
One by one, goodbyes were exchanged — sleepy but heartfelt — until his entire family had filed onto the main jet, waving from the top of the steps before disappearing inside.
You watched the last of his family disappear into the jet before glancing back at Harry, lips curling into a grin.
“When we met, you said you ‘do well for yourself,’” you said, quirking a brow. “I thought that meant, like... occasional sushi dates and a good 401k. You failed to mention you meant ‘private jet well’ there, handsome…”
Harry chuckled, stepping closer until your bodies brushed. “Oh, sweetheart. I’ve got a great 401k and sushi dates in store... plus a jet, a yacht, a summer home, a couple sports cars… oh, and a pretty good espresso machine too.” He grinned as he stepped to face you, looking down at you adoringly.
You stepped into him with a teasing smile. “Oh, so you waited until I was emotionally invested to drop the aviation bomb?”
“Guilty.” He leaned in, brushing a kiss to your temple. “But just think—this is only the beginning.”
You hummed, leaning into him, moving your hands to slowly wrap around his neck loosely, teasing his curls back, “And what would it be the beginning of, my love?”
His hand slid around your waist, fingers splaying with easy confidence. His other, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Of me giving you everything you’ve ever deserved.”
Your breath caught, just for a second. His voice — low, sincere — settled right into your chest.
“You keep surprising me, Castillo,” you said softly.
“I hope so,” he whispered back, “because I plan on wrecking your expectations.”
The morning air was quiet around you. He rested his forehead against yours, thumb stroking your waist.
“I know it’s just a plane,” he murmured, “but it’s also time. Time with you. Time away from the rest of the world. That’s the real luxury.”
Your throat tightened a little, the moment unexpectedly tender. “I hope you know, you’re making it increasingly harder to feel small when you say and do things like this…”
Harry smiled, eyes warm and full of promise. “That’s the idea, mi vida.”
You leaned up and kissed him softly once when his hand slid into yours and tugged you toward the stairs.
“Harry—” you managed before letting out a small giggle.
He glanced back, eyes glittering. “I plan on spending thirty thousand feet and the next sixteen hours finding new ways to show you more of what you deserve. You coming?”
New York didn’t slow down just because you two had.
If anything, it felt like the city had been waiting for you to return — arms crossed, toe tapping — ready to hurl you and Harry back into the chaos at full force.
Harry barely had time to unpack before Clarkson was on his ass. A major client had come back from vacation with demands, delays, and leverage, and somehow all of it fell on Harry’s desk. Meetings, pitch decks, negotiations, more late nights than either of you anticipated.
Meanwhile, you walked straight into a storm of your own. Sophia had kept the hotel afloat while you were away, but a massive cosmetic surgery conference kicked off the same week you got back, bringing in over 200 guests, media attention, and a hundred little fires that only you could put out.
The rhythm of the trip — slow mornings, soft skin, private glances — had been completely eclipsed by meetings, traffic, texts left on read.
Almost a week after getting back…
It was Friday — a night you’d both circled on your calendars before even leaving the jet after having a conversation about this exact thing with being a possibility of happening.
You’d had a long day yourself, but knowing the evening was yours — just the two of you — brought you a sense of warmth. Of anticipation. It was nothing extravagant. Just dinner at home. A little time carved out to be with each other, no distractions.
You picked up Thai on the way home. His favorite. Even splurged on dessert from that little French place you both found out you loved — the lemon tarts with the shortbread crust and brûléed top.
You texted him as soon as you walked in the door:
Just got home — can’t wait to see you ❤️
Then again, thirty minutes later:
Meeting running long? Want me to wait?
The first message stayed on ‘Read.’ The second on ‘Delivered.’
But no response.
After waiting another half hour, you ate alone at the kitchen island, slowly picking at your curry. The candles you lit just for ambiance now flickered too brightly. You left the second plate out, covered it with foil, and poured yourself a glass of wine that went mostly untouched as you sat and turned on the television to try and distract yourself.
By 11:00 p.m., the ache in your chest had settled into something cold and unfortunately — all too familiar.
You hadn’t heard from him all evening. Not so much as a ‘I’m sorry, baby. Rain check?’
So you showered. Got into bed. Your phone lay silent on the nightstand, face down.
It wasn’t the silence that hurt — it was that you thought this time it’d be different. It was what it reminded you of. The feelings you tried so hard to let go of since being with him. The voice that crept in when it was dark and quiet and no one was answering.
He’s getting tired of you.
He’s too busy to remember you.
You were naïve to think someone like him could keep choosing you every day.
Maybe she was right, maybe the fairytale magic is over.
—
The apartment door creaked open at 12:41 AM.
Keys. Shoes. A low thud against the wall — his blazer maybe.
Then the bedroom door cracked open.
You didn’t turn. You just listened, pretending to be asleep.
“Hey,” he said gently, stepping into the dark room. “You still awake?”
Your eyes stayed fixed on the wall, your body curled under the covers.
“I’m so sorry,” he continued, his voice a little too loud. “Drinks ran long. This client — the one Clarkson’s losing his mind over — wanted to ‘celebrate’ prematurely.” he sighed as he started to take off his watch.
He continued, “We were gonna go for one round and then suddenly it was like... five rounds later.” He laughed under his breath then hiccuped. “I got in my head about tryna make this client happy and it got away from me.”
He paused, waiting.
You said nothing.
“I should’ve texted,” he muttered. “That was shitty of me. I just didn’t want to be rude, I mean — you know with them bein’ Chinese and all, with their customs and manners — I just… and then I figured I’d just—”
He stopped short when he realized you still hadn’t said a word.
“I promise I didn’t forget about tonight,” he added quickly. “I just thought we’d push it... I didn’t think—”
“It’s fine,” you said flatly, suddenly, voice quiet but sharp. “I don’t want to talk about it. Not when you’re obviously intoxicated.”
He blinked, taken aback. “I’m not that drunk.”
“You didn’t text,” you added, eyes still on the far wall. “Not once. You couldn’t be bothered to say you were going to be late. Or that we weren’t doing dinner anymore. Or you needed a rain check. You just left me here. Waiting.”
There was a long pause.
“I didn’t mean to ignore you,” he said, defensive now, but trying not to sound it. “It was just a work thing, baby. It’s been crazy since we got back. You know that...”
You turned over slowly, just enough to meet his eyes in the low light. Your voice cracked, but your words didn’t.
“We had plans, Harry. You said tonight was ours. You said we’d make time for each other, but instead you left me sitting here — wondering why I wasn’t worth a message.”
You turned back around and said under your breath, although it wasn’t as quiet as you thought and he heard, “Wondering if maybe she was right.”
His brows furrowed. “Wondering if who was right?”
You shook your head, blinking fast to stop the tears from forming. “Doesn’t matter.”
He moved toward the bed. “Hey, don’t do that—don’t just shut down on me—”
“I’m done talking about it,” you whispered, cutting him off. “It’s late. I’m tired. I have an early morning. You do too. We need to go to sleep.”
He stared at you, shoulders tense and jaw clenched — not in anger, but in frustration, like he didn’t understand where this came from or how it got so bad so fast.
But that was the thing, wasn’t it?
It hadn’t gotten bad fast. It had been simmering — quietly, consistently — ever since the city swallowed you both back up. Ever since the silence started lasting longer than it should have between you two.
Without another word, he went to the bathroom.
You stayed frozen — eyes shut, fists clenched in the sheets — trying to hold yourself together. Trying to breathe past the weight in your chest that pressed like it wanted to cave you in.
You didn’t cry. You were too tired for that now. Too worn down by disappointment and the aching truth of how small and insignificant you felt for the first time with him — and it felt horrible.
By the time he finally slipped into bed beside you, your body had already gone still — asleep or pretending to be, even you weren’t sure.
He whispered your name once, low and careful.
Then he reached out, hand gentle at your waist, trying to pull you close. Trying to apologize. To make it right.
But when you didn’t answer — didn’t stir, didn’t lean into him like you always did — that’s when it hit him.
That’s when he felt the weight of what happened tonight, and it instantly sobered him.
He let out a quiet breath and laid back on his pillow, staring at the ceiling.
The room was silent, but his thoughts were loud — every one of them circling back to the same question.
'How do I fix this?'
Chapter 10
Summary:
The aftermath of Harry missing dinner has both of you wondering what can be done to fix what just happened.
Notes:
word count: 12.5k (today is my birthday, so this chapter is a gift from me to you 🤍)
Chapter Text
Reader's POV
The Next Morning - 5:46 AM
You woke to the soft buzz of your phone vibrating on the nightstand.
The room was dim, bathed in early morning haze. Harry’s arm was wrapped around your waist, heavy and warm. His breath was steady at your shoulder, his body flush with yours.
It seemed your bodies hadn’t gotten the message — curled into each other despite the quiet rift that had formed. And for a brief second, the stillness made it easy to pretend the last twelve hours hadn’t happened.
Then the vibration came again, this time more persistent.
You carefully reached for your phone and slipped out of his arms, heart thudding as you saw Sophia’s name on the screen and then the time.
This couldn't be good.
You answered quietly, already tiptoeing out of the bedroom toward the bathroom. “Hello?”
“Hey, sorry — I know it’s early,” she whispered back, likely still half-asleep herself. “I just wanted to let you know, Ricky is blowing up my phone saying that he heard from Leslie that Todd is showing up for a surprise audit in an hour. Also, we’ve got a situation with the Lexton Suite reservation. The guest's assistant says we confirmed an extra night, but it’s not in the system, and they’re threatening to leave a review that would make Yelp cry.”
Your stomach clenched and you sighed. “Shit. Okay. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Take your time getting out the door, I know it's early...” she offered, her voice still gentle.
You ended the call with a murmured thanks and stepped into the bathroom, quietly clicking the door shut behind you. The second the lock turned, your shoulders sagged. You felt the weight of everything that had happened. The silence wrapped around you like a second skin the longer you stood there.
Then that’s when you saw it — Harry’s watch.
Resting by the sink, exactly where he always left it at night. It was a quiet, familiar detail that filled your mornings. Something that usually made you smile.
But today, it cracked something in your chest.
You sank down slowly against the bathroom door, your back hitting the wood as you clutched your phone to your chest. Your eyes blurred with tears before you even realized they were falling. Then the sobs came. They were quiet but sharp, buried in your palm as your other hand covered your mouth to keep it in, to keep from making too much noise. The last thing you needed was Harry to hear and come in all pitiful and careful.
It wasn’t just last night’s weight either. It was everything. It was the week of barely seeing each other after paradise in the Maldives. It was the missed plans, the long hours, the lingering fear that Rebecca’s cruel words were coming into fruition, your own insecurity whispering that this couldn’t last. The fear that someone like him would always drift back to a world more like his, not you.
And the worst part? You hated yourself for it. You hated that you let it get to you. That you were letting the fear sink its teeth in again.
You stayed there for a few minutes, just breathing through it. Letting yourself feel it, purge it, get it out of your system before the day demanded you pull it together again.
Eventually, you rose slowly, still shaky, and turned the shower on. The water ran hot as you stepped under the spray, hoping it might rinse away everything — the tears, the fears, the stupid ache of knowing things weren't where you wanted them to be.
When you finally stepped out and wrapped yourself in a towel, you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Puffy eyes. Red nose. A brave face half-assembled.
You didn’t have time to fall apart. Not today. Not with Todd on his way and half your staff probably on edge already.
So you pushed it all down. Buried it deep and shut that part of yourself off.
You told yourself that you’d dress quickly and quietly. You’d move through the apartment like a ghost. Be careful not to wake Harry. But when you cracked the bathroom door and crept back into the bedroom, the sound of the shower cutting off must’ve roused him.
Because as you grabbed a skirt and blouse inside the closet, slipping both on quickly, making your way toward the dresser, you heard his voice call for you to come back to bed.
Harry’s POV
The first thing Harry registered was the sound of the shower cutting off, followed by the soft creak of the bathroom door and the faint rustle of drawers inside of the closet. He blinked awake slowly, eyes adjusting to the early morning light streaming through the curtains.
You tiptoed through the bedroom, grabbing things as you moved.
He sat up slightly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Hey,” he said, voice rough. “Come back to bed for a second.” He held out his hand to invite you back.
You didn’t even glance at him, focused on getting out the door after the early call that woke you. “I can’t,” you said, slipping a small earring into place, looking at yourself in the mirror in the corner of the room. “Sophia called. Todd’s showing up early to do a full audit — today of all days,” you sighed, looking and sounding annoyed with the situation.
Harry let out a low groan, sitting up more to give you his full attention. “God, I’m sorry, querida. I thought he wasn’t due til the end of the month?”
You gave a faint, humorless hum in response and reached for your thigh-high stockings in the dresser, “Yeah, me too. Imagine how quickly I got out of bed…” You quickly slid them on, fastening them to a garter under your skirt, then smoothing down your skirt.
As you crossed the room toward the door, he swung his legs out of bed, standing in only his sweatpants, watching you with growing unease. The air between was thick — not angry, but it felt wrong. Fragile in a way that made his gut twist more than just a few hours ago.
He followed you down the hall as you made your way toward the kitchen, tugging on a dark gray tshirt. “About last night…” he started, “I know I screwed up. I’m so sorry, mi vida. I really am.”
You kept your back to him, gathering your things from the counter: your phone, keys, and pouring coffee into a travel mug.
“I was thinking maybe I could come home early tonight,” he added gently. “Pick up dinner? Eat out on the balcony, we can make it romantic with some candles and music...” He suggested.
There was a pause. Just enough for him to hope.
But then you looked over your shoulder, your voice quiet and even. “It’s fine. We’re both busy — still are, it seems.”
Harry stood still at the end of the hallway, watching you like he didn’t recognize the air between you. You were never this cold, this shut down — he didn’t quite know how to navigate this.
You sighed, mumbling something to yourself while you looked for something, then moved towards the entryway, grabbing your badge and putting it on your waistband before putting on your coat and heels, eyes focused, voice even again. “Plus, you’ve got that shareholder meeting this evening anyway.”
His voice cracked through it, low and strained as he said, “If it’s fine, then why can’t you look at me?”
You froze mid-motion. Your fingers tightened around the lapel of your coat before you slowly turned to face him — but still didn’t meet his eyes.
“Don’t do that,” you said, voice soft, frayed. “Don’t—”
“Don’t what? Don’t ask why you’re shutting me out? Don’t ask what I can do to fix this?” He asked, keeping his voice even but strained, taking a couple steps forward, attempting to get closer to you.
You unconsciously stepped back, looking down at your purse as you picked it up, “You just—” You huffed out a breath then, “You don’t understand, Harry,” you snapped suddenly feeling pressure to get out the door but then navigate this conversation, your voice louder than you meant to. “You think saying sorry will fix it? Or coming home all gentle and sweet will make everything okay?”
You exhaled through your nose, visibly upset as you tried to find the right words, “You just don’t get it.”
His mouth parted, stunned, but his eyes didn’t leave you. He took a step closer, careful not to push a boundary you were trying to put up.
“I want to understand,” he said, desperation roughening his voice. “Tell me what I’m missing. What can I do?”
You looked up at him, your eyes glassy now, and for a second, he thought maybe you’d let it all pour out. But then your lip trembled as you whispered shakily, “I don’t—”
His brows were drawn, deep creases folding between them, shadowed by the dim glow of the early morning light coming in through the window. His mouth parted slightly, trembling on the edge of saying more, but every syllable already felt like a plea. His jaw clenched like he was fighting to keep it together — not out of anger, but desperation to fix what he broke.
His eyes, dark and glassy, were fixed on you — wide with unease, like he was trying to understand how things had gotten so far, and if there was still time to fix it.
“I don’t want to have to tell you, Harry…” You said, shrugging defeatedly.
“Then what?” he took another step forward, voice cracking with desperation. “What can I do? I can’t apologize? I can’t try to make it right? What is there left for me to do? I can’t turn back time, cariño—”
“I don’t know, Harry!” you nearly shouted, your voice cracking now. “I don’t know what I need! I don’t know what I want, I just—” You turned away and sniffed, quickly wiping a couple of tears that had fallen down your cheeks. “I need to go. I can’t do this right now.”
He reached for you, not forceful, just desperate — hand brushing your arm as you turned toward the door again.
“Please don’t go like this,” he said, barely more than a whisper. “Please. Let’s talk it through, let me make it up to you. We fix things, right? So let’s fix it.”
You shook your head, overwhelmed and spiraling, the pressure of the morning and last night pressing down so hard it hurt to breathe, “Harry, stop…”
That’s when your phone dinged.
Harry’s voice faltered as your phone lit up in your hand, “Baby, please…”
Sophia 6:12 AM: I just arrived, and Todd's already trying to boss me around. Ugh! Men, right?
You swallowed, closing your eyes as the tension in your chest gave way to urgency.
“Shit,” you mumbled, looking at the text briefly.
He took a step closer, head tilting to try and find your eyes once more. “Just tell me this — will I see you tonight?”
You opened the front door, your fingers tightening on the strap of your bag.
“I’m sure I’ll be home late with the audit,” you said softly, trying to hold the emotion in that was edging on spilling out. “You don’t have to wait up, I know you have an early morning tomorrow...”
He wanted to reach for you again. To pull you into him and make you stay until the wall between you cracked enough to let the truth back in. But all he could do was chase your presence with his eyes.
“Of course I’ll wait up,” he said softly, stepping forward to place a hand on the edge of the door, close to yours — chasing you quietly, helplessly.
You stopped just for a moment, like you might turn around, that maybe you changed your mind, and you'd stay.
You took a deep breath, then went to say something, but just as you opened your mouth, your phone started to ring — loud and harsh, echoing down the hallway.
Incoming Call: Sophia
“Shit,” you muttered again. “I’m sorry, I’ve got to take this… I’ll just— I’ll see you later, okay?” Your voice had gone flat again. Now numb and guarded. And when you looked up at him, only for a second.
Harry saw it.
Your eyes were red-rimmed and tired. The remnants of tears you hadn’t wanted him to see clouded your vision.
He felt his gut sink further, and his chest ached as you lifted the phone to your ear and answered, already turning down the hallway, “Yeah, I’m on my way, Soph… no, leave that to me.”
And just like that, you were gone down the elevator.
Harry stood frozen in the quiet that followed. There was something hollow in his expression. Like your silence was cutting him deeper than any screaming match could. Like the guilt was eating at him second by second.
When he finally turned around, the kitchen greeted him like an ugly guilt trip. It still held the remnants of what you’d prepared the night before.
He saw how you got his favorite Thai takeout from the bag that was still on the counter. He saw how it remained in neat little boxes in the fridge. He saw the special dessert from that overpriced bakery he loved. It was tucked in beside a bottle of open wine on the island.
He walked over slowly, picking up the container to see a small note stuck on the side in your handwriting: ‘I’ve missed you this week ❤️’
His chest ached at it all.
"God, I’m such an idiot." He said to himself.
Last night hadn’t just been about missing dinner — it was about you knowing he was missing you just as much as you were missing him.
It was about missing a moment you’d put so much thought and effort into. It was about how he’d let work and a few drinks pull him away without even noticing.
Reader’s POV – Midmorning
Since returning from the Maldives, your world had snapped right back into motion with barely a moment to breathe.
Today was no exception. In fact, it was the icing on the god damn cake. Between everything that had just happened, this was exactly what you didn’t need.
Todd’s surprise audit of internal operations had thrown the entire staff into overdrive unexpectedly this morning. Sophia was doing her best to help hold things down while you ran around to put out fires before he could see them.
This week has been overwhelming, to say the least. Between the massive cosmetic surgery conference and celebrity clients checking in for Fashion Week, it felt like there weren't enough hours in the day.
Still, you’d tried to carve out one last sliver of your evening last night — putting in the extra effort, even though you were exhausted, even though you knew Harry had been buried under Clarkson’s thumb with the latest mega-client, you tried. You’d put in effort to spend just a few hours, uninterrupted, with the man you had been missing more than you could put into words.
But then to have him ignore your texts all night? Then to come home past midnight? Tipsy? Pitifully apologetic?
And then this morning?
God, this morning did not go how you wanted or needed it to go.
You felt horrible that you snapped at him, gutted that you allowed yourself to react that way. You didn’t know why, but it hurt that he watched you walk out the door like he didn’t know how to stop you. You thought he was different, that this would all be different.
All you wanted him to do was to make you stop and look at him, to snap you out of this stupid fucking headspace — to make you late for stupid Todd because he would be too busy making it right somehow.
The ache in your chest had only grown tighter as the stress of your morning fueled it more than you’d like it to.
You stepped into the back corridor near the service elevator, tablet in hand, making your way toward your office when you heard him down the hall — Todd fucking Rogers.
His voice carried like it always did — loud, smug, prissy, and sharp around the edges.
“I asked to show me the fresh towels,” he snapped. “These smell like bleach,” he scoffed. “Jesus — is this your first day?”
You rounded the corner just in time to see him waving a folded towel in front of one of your housekeeping staff's face, Rosa. A woman who’d been working here loyally for nearly ten years. She looked flustered, her gloved hands twisting in front of her apron as she murmured something in broken English back to him.
Todd scoffed and tossed the towel onto the maid’s cart like it had personally offended him by touching it. “I swear, every time I come here, it’s the same thing. You people can’t get even the basics right.”
You stopped in your tracks at the venom he just tried on one of your most hardest-working staff members. Your blood boiled.
Rosa’s eyes flicked up the second she saw you, apologetic — like she was bracing for a reprimand from you next.
You stepped forward, voice calm but icy. “I’m sorry, but is there a problem, Todd?”
He turned, blinking at you like he hadn’t expected you to appear from thin air. “Yeah, there’s a problem. These towels are substandard. They smell like chemicals. And this one—” he gestured toward Rosa with a flippant wave, “—has clearly never been trained on proper procedure.”
Your jaw locked, fingers tightening around your tablet.
“First, I suggest,” you said slowly, “you lower your voice when speaking to my staff.”
“She’s just housekeeping..." he argued.
“She’s Rosa,” you snapped. “And she’s worked here longer than either of us has.” You put your hand on her shoulder, signalling support for her.
You continued, “Second, if the towels smell like bleach, it’s because this hotel follows strict sanitization protocols. May I remind you that they are strict protocols that you signed off on last quarter.”
Todd’s face began to flush, but you weren’t done.
“Lastly, if you have a complaint, you bring it to me after your audit is complete. You don’t bring it to someone doing her job well and without complaint.” You stepped forward and looked at him from the bottom up, eyes filled with disgust and judgment, “Just because you’ve decided you’re above showing basic human respect for those working in our trenches here at the Ritz does not mean I’m going to allow it.”
The corridor had gone quiet. You could hear a pin drop.
The few other housekeeping staff members nearby were frozen, listening like a fly on the wall.
Sophia stood a few feet away now behind you, frozen as well with wide eyes.
Todd’s mouth opened like he wanted to respond, but you raised your hand slightly and gave him a look that made it very clear you were done playing nice.
“If you have immediate feedback going forward,” you said with a brittle smile, “email me or come find me. Otherwise, I suggest you get back to your audit and let Rosa and my staff do their jobs, yes?”
He stared at you for one more beat, then huffed and turned, muttering something under his breath as he disappeared down the hall and into the elevator.
You exhaled sharply and nodded once, satisfied.
Rosa gave you a timid smile and nodded her thanks before rolling her cart down the hall.
Once she was gone, Sophia stepped forward, blinking slowly.
“Okay, that was kind of badass,” she said, “but completely out of character for you.” She huffed a small chuckle. “Are you okay?” she said more in a joking tone than a concerned one.
You closed your eyes and leaned back against the wall, letting the marble cool your spine.
“No,” you said. “Not really.”
Sophia frowned almost instantly, realizing your tone. “Oh, shit... What’s going on?”
You hesitated, rubbing the back of your neck. “Harry and I had our first fight last night."
You shook your head and shrugged, thinking back to it, the frustration building back up slightly as you continued, "We had plans — or were supposed to have plans." You sighed.
"I picked up dinner, dessert… even wore something new just because I missed him.” You looked down at the floor before saying sadly, “He didn’t show up until past midnight.”
She winced, “Ouch.”
“He was a little drunk and tried to be sweet about it, but I… I was hurt. Gave him the cold shoulder… I didn’t want to fight, but I didn’t want to just move on, you know?” You pinched the bridge of your nose, frustrated about how you may have handled the situation.
Sophia nodded as she bit her lip and listened, giving you her full attention.
“Then this morning, when I tried to get out of the house, let myself have today to just… clear my head, get some space… he kept trying to talk about it. And at one point, I snapped. I think I may have yelled at him. I just—I couldn’t—I couldn’t say anything, I couldn’t make it make sense, I just—” you started to sound wound tight and frustrated, your hands clenched in little balls as you explained.
Sophia’s expression softened. “You froze.”
You sighed, letting go of the tension, and nodded, looking at her. “I didn’t want to? But all those old voices came roaring back last night. The ones that say I’m too much or not enough. That someone like him… won’t stick around for someone like me."
Your voice cracked as you said, "Or what Rebecca said, ‘The fairytale magic ends and he’ll move on.'..." You bit the side of your cheek to stop the tears from pouring out.
Sophia sighed and linked her arm with yours, tugging you into motion gently to walk with her down the hall. “Can I offer some friendly words of advice?”
You hummed, “Do I have a choice?”
She rolled her eyes playfully but then continued, “First off, fuck Rebecca! That snake doesn’t deserve to occupy your mind, so get that bitch out, please and thank you.”
You chuckled and nudged her, “Ok, point taken. We both hate Rebecca, got it.”
She chuckled then continued bluntly, “Next… you’ve got to stop comparing Harry to the very low standard of the men who have hurt you in the past.”
You looked at her with a guilty look because, as much as you hated to admit it, she was right.
She shrugged. “Look, we’ve known Harry passively for a while now, right? As a guest, he’s always been respectful and kind, tips generously, and treats everyone more than fairly.”
You let out a soft sigh and nodded, listening.
She continued, “He’s not them, though, not the ones who hurt you. But he is going to mess up, because he’s human. But if every time he does, you hear someone else’s voice instead of his… that’s not fair to either of you.”
Tears threatened to prick your eyes, but you blinked them back and swallowed down the emotion.
Sophia squeezed your hand. “Go. Take a walk, get some air. You’re no good to yourself or our team in this state of mind. I’ll handle the schedule for the next few hours.”
You opened your mouth to argue.
“Nope,” she said, holding up a finger, letting go of your arm. “You know I can handle it. Now go. I’ll cover. You need to figure out what you want to say to him… and then actually go say it.”
You stared at her, grateful beyond words. Then you nodded.
Because you knew she was right.
Harry wasn’t perfect. But neither were you, and somewhere in the spaces between missteps and misunderstandings…
There was always going to be the chance to try again.
After walking through the park for almost two hours, rehearsing what you were going to say, replaying everything in your head from last night and this morning, and thinking about how every possible outcome could go — you finally headed to his office.
However, you didn’t want to show up empty-handed. It felt too vulnerable to just walk in and say, “I’m sorry I froze you out. I'm sorry I yelled. I’m sorry, I expected perfection. I’m sorry I let my fear speak louder than my love.”
So, you let your feet carry you down the street with a quiet sense of purpose.
Seb’s Subs was just a few blocks from his building — his favorite quick and easy lunch. The cashier, Andre, recognized you instantly, boxing up his usual with a wink and smile.
It wasn’t a grand gesture. But it was something — call it a peace offering.
By the time you stepped into the elegant lobby of Stonebridge Capital, your nerves were a mess of tension and hope.
It had only been a few hours since you left him standing in the front doorway, but it felt like days had passed.
You missed him. And more than that, you wanted to fix this. You wanted this to be different than every other relationship, you didn’t want to run.
“Y/N?”
You turned toward the front desk to find Peter, Harry’s assistant, already standing with a warm smile and a coffee in hand, talking with one of the girls at the front desk.
His familiar presence pulled a surprised laugh from your lips, giving you the first real smile since last night.
“Hey, Peter,” you said, suddenly a little bashful.
“My my, does this mean I get to witness another legendary lunch delivery?” he teased.
You laughed again. “Yes, sir! Figured it worked like a charm the first time…” You shrugged with the bag in your hand.
“He still talks about it, you know? Says it was the best way to find his office after one of Kent’s slideshow torture talks,” he grinned.
You snorted and tsked, “Is that what he came from? One of Kent’s famous PowerPoint presentations?”
He chuckled, then looked down at his tablet to message Harry. “Want me to let him know you’re here?”
You hesitated, then shook your head. “No, no. I was hoping to just… surprise him… again? Is he in or busy?”
Peter glanced at the time and nodded. “He’s in a meeting, but it should be wrapping up soon. Just across the hall in the main conference room.” He glanced over to the area he was in.
You felt a little flutter in your chest, similar to the one you felt when you first did this. “Would it be okay if I waited in his office?”
Peter grinned like he was in on a delicious secret. “I’ll smuggle you in… We’ll make this one an actual surprise!”
You looked at him confused, “Was the last one not?”
He tutted and rolled his eyes as he came over and looped your arm with his as he leaned in to gossip, voice low, “Between you and me, last time, I swear he knew somehow or had a heads up.”
You chuckled, “Oh? How so?”
He began walking you through the office, “The man asked me to reschedule an important meeting out of the blue and then was huffing into his palm… checking his breath! You tell me he didn’t know something…”
You giggled softly. “Fair point. Alright then, in that case, smuggle me in.”
The two of you quietly made your way down the hallway, careful not to pass the glass-walled conference room as Peter led you around the back hallway, away from direct sightlines.
He paused at Harry’s office door and pushed it open for you.
“Go ahead,” he whispered. “I’ll make sure he ends up here afterwards.”
You smiled warmly. “Thanks, Peter. It’s so good to see you again.” You touched his arm gently and gave it a small squeeze.
He nodded and disappeared with a wink, the soft click of the door closing behind you settling into the silence of Harry’s office.
You hadn’t been in here since that first surprise visit weeks ago. The room was still sleek, still commanding — tall windows overlooking the skyline, dark wood paneling, and brushed brass accents — but this time, it was different.
It was warmer, more lived-in.
And if your eyes didn’t deceive you, there was more of you.
The first thing you noticed was the photo proudly on display on the edge of his desk — one from the Maldives, where you’d both been half-sunburnt and laughing, hair wild and windswept. You didn’t even remember him asking someone to take it but you remember him showing it to you proudly and saying, “This one’s going in my office!”
You thought he was just saying that to flatter you.
You stepped closer and smiled softly as you picked it up, heart skipping, butterflies fluttering.
Beside it sat a delicate glass jar of seashells, hand-selected — one of them still had a trace of glittering sand in its crevice.
They were shells you two gathered while walking back from dinner each night. A little ritual Harry suggested to remember your time together in paradise.
You had a similar jar on your desk with his shells and he had this jar with yours.
You set the frame back down, and your eyes drifted across the space as you took it all in.
On the bookshelf: the tiny stuffed penguin keychain from your aquarium date. It was one he said was “ridiculously overpriced”, but bought anyway when you wouldn’t stop smiling at it because it looked like him when he dressed for work, oddly enough. You smiled to yourself at the memory.
Your eyeline saw pushed under his desk-mat calendar a folded napkin from that initial afternoon coffee shop date — the one where you knew then and there he was in it for the long run.
On the whiteboard behind his desk, between strategy notes and deadline reminders, you saw something scribbled in the corner on notepad paper:
Flowers:
RosesTulipsRanunculusSunflowersLilies?
You blinked once you’d realized what it was.
He’d been keeping a list.
You turned back to his desk, now noticing small sticky notes scattered along the edges of his monitor — each one a memory, a reminder, a breadcrumb of you:
“Don’t let her forget to eat on Wednesdays.”
“Pick up that book she mentioned for the trip.”
“Her goddaughter’s (Rosie) first day of school is at the end of the month. Remember to ask how it went.”
“She mentioned needing an oil change when we get back. Research either how to do it or have Ted take it to a shop.”
You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
This man—this confident, composed, guarded man—had slowly built a shrine to your life together. Quiet, unassuming. As if it were the most natural thing in the world to weave you into the very fabric of his daily routine.
And all the while, you’d been spiraling. Panicking. Letting old fears and insecurities gnaw at the roots of something that had only ever grown from love.
You lowered the takeout bag and coffee gently on his desk and placed your fingertips over one of the sticky notes. You didn’t even remember mentioning the book to him. Or the exact date of Rosie’s first day of school — but he did.
He remembered it all.
You sank slowly into the soft leather chair behind his desk, the weight of the moment settling into your chest. Not heavy. No, this time — it was absolutely full.
You were his. And despite your worst fears, every detail in this room whispered back:
He’s yours.
Harry’s POV
The meeting had been going on for the last forty-five minutes.
Harry couldn’t recall a single thing that had been said. Not by Clarkson, not by Kent, not even when feedback had been given by others. It was just going in one ear, out the other.
His eyes were currently aimed at the presentation Clarkson was flipping through on the screen — numbers, trends, projected growth — but his brain refused to engage. All he could think about was the look on your face when you’d left just a few hours ago.
Quiet. Guarded. Unreachable. Disappointed.
It was the first morning that you hadn’t kissed him goodbye. And when you did look at him? All he could see was that this one thing he was responsible for broke something in you he didn’t quite know how to fix.
“Castillo?” Clarkson’s voice cut into the fog of his thoughts, followed by the light nudge of someone's elbow beside him.
Harry straightened. “Sorry. What was the question?”
A few colleagues shifted in their chairs at the out of pocket response by Harry — him not paying attention was new.
Clarkson shot him a look.
“Need your head in the room, not in the clouds, son,” he said with a tight smile. “We’re trying to keep this ship running, yes?”
“Of course, sir,” Harry replied, trying to sit up straighter and force his focus to cooperate. But his heart wasn’t in it.
Not when his head was in the clouds — or more accurately, back at home.
Back in the silence that had followed your retreat. Back in the kitchen, where your unappreciated efforts sat on the counter. Back to the look in your eyes when you’d said, “I don’t want to talk about this when you’re obviously intoxicated.” and “I don’t want to have to tell you…”
Back in that bed, where you’d turned away from him and begun construction on that damned wall he had tried so hard to burn down, to blast to nothing but dust over the last few weeks.
‘How did I not see this? How could I have fucked up this horribly?’ Kept racing through his mind over and over again.
When the meeting finally ended, Harry stood so quickly he nearly knocked over his chair. He slipped his phone out of his pocket as he walked towards the door, praying to see your name on his screen. A message. A missed call. An email — but there was nothing.
Peter was waiting just outside the conference room, already flipping through notes for the rest of today’s schedule.
He wasted no time before catching Harry up to speed, “You’ve got that renewal meeting in an hour — Mr. Laird, the software guy. I put his contract on your desk to review beforehand,” he said as Harry stopped by the water cooler. “And I had coffee sent to your office, and—”
Harry cut him off, “Can you reschedule it?”
Peter blinked. “Reschedule, sir?”
“I’ll call him personally and apologize. I just need to… I’m gonna bring Y/N lunch. Can you call ahead and tell Sophia to keep her there? I need to see her…” He buttoned up his suit jacket and looked at his watch, trying to think where he could stop to get something to eat without it being so busy.
Peter opened his mouth — and then closed it, lips curling slightly, “Uhm…”
“What, Peter? What is it?” Harry said with an urgency to his tone as he started walking towards the exit.
“Nothing,” Peter said, stepping in front of him just as Harry turned toward the front doors towards the elevators. “You should probably just go back to your office first...”
Harry squinted. “Peter, I’m confused—”
“Just trust me?” He looked at him with pleading eyes.
Harry frowned but turned back toward his office anyway, the unease inside him flaring again.
‘Has something happened? Did something happen to Y/N?’
He pushed open the door and stopped cold in his tracks.
There you were.
Standing near the window, light pouring in over your shoulders — looking down at the city below.
It was like the air got knocked clean from his lungs.
“What? What are you doing here?” he asked, voice hoarse as he took a step into the office, hand on the knob. “Is everything okay?” His eyes were soft and concerned.
You looked over slowly, the corners of your lips curving faintly. Your eyes were softer than this morning — not unguarded, not fully healed — but softened.
“Baby? What’s wrong?” He looked at you as if nothing mattered more than your peace—even if it cost him everything.
You didn’t say anything, you just looked at him with a soft, pleading, and loving gaze.
After a moment you walked around the desk to him, slow and sure, and he didn’t dare move — not until your hands were in the lapels of his suit jacket, gently pulling him close, and then your lips were on his, kissing him like you’d missed him with every inch of your soul.
He melted instantaneously, eyes fluttering shut as his hands flew to your waist, anchoring you as close as he could as he kissed you back, fervent and desperate — as if all the tension of the last 24 hours crashed into a single breath.
He nudged the door shut with his foot and, without breaking from your lips, reached back and hit a button on the wall, making the blinds slide shut one by one until the office turned warm and golden and private by the lamps around the office.
“God,” he murmured, lips trailing from your mouth to your cheek, your jaw, your temple. “I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry—”
You stopped him with gentle fingers to his mouth before cupping his cheek and brushing your fingers against his scruff, looking up to study his eyes.
“It’s okay,” you whispered. “But I’m the one who should apologize.”
His brow furrowed, but you shook your head and kept going.
“I should’ve just talked to you. Instead of shutting down. I shouldn’t have iced you out like that. I shouldn’t have yelled at you either, you didn’t deserve that reaction.” Your voice was thick with emotion. “But Harry… I missed you. I miss you. I miss us. And this city — this pace… I don’t know how to do this life where we’re constantly running and never have time together.”
You looked down and slowly slid your hands down his chest, “I just don’t want the two of us to get used to being like this...”
His hands moved up and cupped your face now, his thumbs brushing your cheeks, pulling you back up to look at him. “You’re not alone in that. I miss you, too. So fucking much.”
You leaned into his touch, your eyes closing for a beat.
“If I’d known…” He shook his head, leaning in to kiss your forehead. “If I’d seen how much I was slipping up — how much I was hurting you — I would’ve cancelled the damn thing last night. I would’ve been home before you.”
“It’s not just your fault,” you murmured. “It’s both of us. We got swept back in. I should have been better about checking in.”
“Well, I don’t want to be swept anymore,” he said, voice firm now. “You’re my home, my life. Not work. Not this office. Not these damn clients who don’t give a shit about my time outside these four walls. Whatever I build here, whatever I become — it means nothing if it’s not with you beside me.”
You opened your eyes and looked up at him before he continued.
“You. You’re the only thing that matters to me.” He leaned his forehead against yours.
Your eyes filled again, lips trembling. “Harry—”
He pulled away and his hands dramatically flew into the air, “I’ll delegate. I’ll pull back on the evening partners’ meetings. I’ll cancel pointless dinners. Whatever it takes, baby. We’ll figure it out.”
Your palms flattened softly over his chest. “It’s time I took a step back too. Sophia’s more than capable — I’ll promote her and bring in someone new to cover after-hours. I want to start having a life again.” You met his eyes, smiling. “Our life.”
He smiled at you. A real smile — dimples and all. He cupped your face carefully, studying your eyes, “Just don’t shut me out again, yeah?”
You nodded, eyes wide and glassy. “I won’t. I promise.”
He leaned in and kissed you again, slower this time, full of everything he hadn’t been able to say until now.
Your lips were still warm and swollen from the kiss when Harry pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours again. His hands were braced at either side of your hips, his chest rising and falling with quiet, controlled urgency.
“Can you stay for a bit?” he asked softly, almost pleading. “Please tell me you don’t have to rush off back to the office and I get you just a little longer than a few kisses and an apology?”
Your heart tugged at the sound of his voice — deep and roughened with emotion. You opened your mouth to respond and started to nod your head, but the words didn’t even have time to surface because his lips were already on yours.
He kissed you again — hard and slow — and then turned, still holding you, and walked you backward toward his desk.
“Harry—” you laughed softly through a gasp, bracing your hand on his shoulder.
He didn’t answer. He just swept his arm across the polished mahogany, sending papers, pens, his notepad, and a glass paperweight scattering across the floor in one smooth, cinematic sweep.
You looked back to see the mess and blinked in shock, a small giggle bubbling up, “Man, you have a flare for the dramatics today, don’t you?”
“You deserve nothing less than some good ol’ romantic drama,” he murmured with a smirk, and then lifted you up to sit on the now-bare surface.
Before you could say another word, he dropped to his knees.
“I owe you,” he murmured, eyes dark, voice low. “For last night. For this morning. For every second I wasn’t making you feel wanted.”
“Harry, what about…” you whispered, breath shaky as you looked at the door.
“Don’t worry about that, trust me.” he smirked.
You looked down at him and your cheeks turned pink.
“Let me make it up to you,” he said, already hooking your underwear down and off under your skirt, sticking them into his trouser pocket, exposing you completely to his gaze. “Right here. Right now.”
“Harry,” you gasped, breath catching as his hands slid beneath your dress again, firm and possessive. “We won’t have time for lunch… I—”
“I’ll be quick,” he said, voice already low and full of heat as he kissed up your stockings. “But I’m not skipping this. I need to hear you fall apart. I need to pay for my wrongdoings.” He said before his teeth lightly teased at the lace, snapping it lightly on your thigh before moving further up.
You barely had time to breathe before he was on you — tongue and lips slow, thorough, devoted.
Your head fell back with a soft moan. “Fuck…”
After a few moments of drinking you like you were offering immortality — he slipped a finger inside you, curling just right, his tongue never breaking rhythm. Your hips lifted, legs trembling.
He growled in approval, his finger curling deep as he tasted you with reverence. The kind of hunger that was borderline worship.
You hummed and bit your lip to keep in a loud moan feeling him begin to hit the spongy spot that made you see stars.
You whined when he began flicking his tongue against your sensitive bundle of nerves, “Fuck— don’t stop. Please don’t stop.” you whimpered.
Just as the tension coiled and your muscles began to quake, your phone started ringing on the desk somewhere behind you.
You gasped. “Shit—”
“Don’t you dare,” he said without lifting his mouth from you. “Let it ring.”
But when the call didn’t stop and the screen lit up again, you knew it had to be Sophia.
You reached blindly for the phone, breath shaking, and somehow managed to hit answer.
“Hello?” you rasped, voice high-pitched, barely stable.
“Y/N?” Sophia said, the sound of staff noise bustling behind her. “Sorry to bug you, I know I said I’d give you a few hours, but we’ve got a situation.”
You hummed back a moan and rolled your eyes back as he slipped another finger inside, “What—What seems to be the issue?” you barely got out.
“One of the VIP suites was double-booked, and the penthouse chef apparently walked out after the event director called him a ‘decorative knife holder.’” She explained with a sarcastic tone in her voice.
You squeezed your eyes shut as Harry’s tongue flicked just right on your clit. You covered your mouth with your hand.
Sophia went on. “I’ve got bellmen moving furniture into the wrong rooms, a very entitled influencer having a fit in the lobby, oh, and Mr. Kimball is asking for you specifically. Help me?”
Your voice cracked as you forced words out. “Y-yeah. Okay. I’ll… be there in ten.”
Harry groaned and slid another finger in, making you gasp before correcting yourself, “Actually, make that twenty.”
“You okay?” Sophia asked. “You sound… winded?”
You swallowed a groan. “Mmhm yeah. Just… mid-stairwell, you know?”
“Oh, girl. Been there. Take your time but hurry!”
She hung up before you could respond.
You let the phone slide from your hand and barely had time to exhale before Harry sucked hard at just the right angle — you came undone. Body shaking, hands gripping the edge of his desk, jaw clenched tight to keep from crying out his name as he moaned through your orgasm, lapping every bit of you with the kind of reverent hunger that made your toes curl.
By the time you came back to earth, he was standing and leaning over your fucked out body, his lips brushing your cheek, your temple, your jaw.
“You are everything,” he whispered, gently easing your dress back down and kissing your jawline, your cheek.
You cupped his face, still breathless, smiling. “And you’re a troublemaker, my love.”
He grinned. “You bring it out in me.”
You hummed and nodded, “You’re right, it’s something I love about you.” You said as you leaned up to kiss his lips slowly and ever so passionately.
He kissed you back, his hand moving up to cup your cheek then slowly thread through your hair and hold the back of your head. After a few, he pulled back and leaned his forehead against yours, his voice soft and sure, “I love you.”
You took a deep breath and smiled as you said lovingly back, “I love you, too.”
He leaned in and kissed you a few more times before pulling back and helping you sit up.
You hopped down from the desk on slightly shaky legs, adjusting your dress and gathering your things. Harry immediately helped, brushing his hands along your sides, kissing the back of your shoulder, then your neck.
“You sure you have to go?” he murmured as he nudged your neck softly with his nose, planting a kiss there.
“I’m the only one who can smooth this type of chaos over,” you said, grabbing your purse and keys. “But I’ll try to be home early. I’ll have to tell you later how I broke Todd. How I may have graced my team with an early departure from his snobby little attitude.”
Harry chuckled, low and deep, “I can’t wait to hear.”
As you turned for the door, putting your hand on the knob, he reached out for you.
“Wait,” he said, eyes warm, voice soft. “One more kiss…”
You smiled, stepping back toward him as he dipped down to kiss you— slow, deep, lingering.
When you pulled back, cheeks flushed, you whispered, “If you still want to do that candlelight dinner tonight…”
“I’ll make it perfect,” he promised without a second thought. “Just tell me what you want, and I’ll have it ready.”
You paused at the door again, looking at him with a teasing glint in your eye.
“Anything?”
He tilted his head, reading you with a slow grin. “What do you have in mind?”
You crossed back, leaned up, and kissed his lips — slow and full of promise — before whispering:
“I want you to use your imagination.”
He stood there stunned, aroused, and grinning.
You started for the door again, checking your reflection in the wall mirror one last time before you paused.
“Wait,” you said, glancing at him over your shoulder. “My panties.”
He blinked once. Then that slow, crooked grin pulled at his mouth.
“Oh,” he said, casually patting the front pocket of his slacks. “Yeah, no. I’m keeping them.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
He took a step closer, gaze heated as he leaned in, voice a low murmur against your lips, his hand on your hip, pulling you against him, against the obvious strain pressing up against his trousers.
“Think of it as a bookmark,” he whispered. “Just a little reminder that I’m not done with you yet.”
Your breath caught, legs nearly forgetting how to function.
“I hate how much that works on me,” you muttered before pecking his lips, then turning toward the door again, flustered and flushed.
“Good,” he said, voice rough with satisfaction. “Now go. Be brilliant. And I’ll see you tonight, mi vida.”
You didn’t trust yourself to look back, not with the smug heat radiating off him — and definitely not with the image now seared into your brain of your panties in his pocket while he went about his day like nothing happened.
Harry’s POV
His office door closed behind you— and Harry just stood there for a moment, rooted in place.
Your scent still lingered in the air. A trace of your gloss was smudged at the corner of his mouth. And in his front pocket, a delicate scrap of lace burned against his thigh like a damn brand.
He looked down at it, his lips twitching, “Fuckin’ hell.”
He pressed the button on the wall to open the blinds again, the sharp click of the mechanism jolting him back into reality. The office flickered to life around him — daylight pouring back in, his desk half-destroyed, your imprint still warming the surface. And he still — had a full schedule ahead if Peter didn’t cancel it all.
He dragged a hand through his hair and let out a long breath.
“Focus,” he muttered to himself, already knowing it was a lost cause.
By the time he made it to his contract renewal meeting, he was ten minutes late, tie half-loosened, and barely hanging on as his lips still tasted of your sweetness.
Clarkson raised an eyebrow across the table as he came in, in a bit of a scramble, still flushed from earlier, “Jesus, Castillo. You look like you just ran a marathon.”
His curls fell onto his forehead as he reached to grab a copy of the contract. Since your hands were just holding onto them while he devoured your sweetness — he’d not been able to properly tame them back.
“Something like that,” Harry said, adjusting in his seat with a slight wince.
Across the conference table, one of the clients asked a question about exit valuations, a question Harry had answered in his sleep a hundred times before — but his mind was not on exit strategies.
It was on the way you bit your lip to stifle a moan.
The way your hands had gripped the desk as he curled his fingers inside you.
The way you answered your phone with his tongue buried inside, keeping you steady and quivering with pleasure.
He shifted again, the lace brushing his thigh with a maddening friction, and for the first time in his life, Harry was grateful for the table blocking his lap.
Clarkson’s voice pulled him out of it again, “You alright there, Castillo? You look like you’re ready to pass out.”
Harry cleared his throat, flipped a page of the contract for no reason at all. “Yep. Fine. Fully present.”
Clarkson narrowed his eyes, unsure to be concerned or annoyed at Harry’s behavior. “Uh-huh. Right…”
Harry barely made it through the next thirty minutes, reading numbers on the page but not taking in a single word. Every time he adjusted in his seat, the fabric shifted, that soft scrap of lace making itself known.
An ever-present reminder of the woman who had undone him completely, and left him wrecked in his own office like it was nothing.
He knew you’d done it on purpose, leaving him like that. Of course, you had.
That smug little smile. The way you looked back over your shoulder when you asked for them back, already knowing he wouldn’t give them up.
“I want you to use your imagination.”
“Fuck me…” he muttered as he adjusted his hips, his cock straining against his trousers painfully.
“What was that, Castillo?” the client asked, turning towards him to hear him better.
Harry’s gaze snapped up, and he cleared his throat, “Uhm, just said ‘Sounds good to me’, you know the terms and all.”
The client hummed in agreement and turned their attention back to Clarkson.
When the meeting finally adjourned, Harry stood a little too quickly and had to cover the obvious strain in his trousers with the nearest folder.
As he passed Peter on the way to his office before his next meeting, he gave him a subtle look.
Peter joined him in his walk, “You uh… you need a break, boss?”
Harry narrowed his eyes, offended by the offer. “Why do you say that?”
Peter gestured to the faint pink mark just under his jaw. “Because if you’re tryin’ to keep your private life private, you’re failin’ miserably.” He chuckled.
Harry didn’t even flinch. “Not ashamed, Peter, not ashamed one bit…” he said simply, before stepping into his office, walking into the scent of your perfume lingering in the air.
‘Still. Fucking. Here.’
He slammed the office door behind him and let out a rough exhale — the sound echoing off the walls of the now-quiet room. The moment the latch clicked, he turned the lock and pushed the button to close the blinds again.
“Fuck.” He said, walking over to his desk.
He was drowning. Your scent was everywhere, still clinging to the air. His lips still tasted like a mix of your lip gloss and sweetness. He could still hear you whimper against his tongue as you came undone with his head so perfectly between your thighs.
He pulled your panties out of his pocket slowly, reverently, like they were a secret.
Without even thinking, he dragged the delicate fabric through his fingers before leaning back in his chair, jaw tight, breath already shaky.
He sat there with your panites in his grip for several minutes, staring at them, almost drooling at the sight of them.
He tried. He tried to behave. To just take a minute and breathe and get his goddamn head on straight before the next meeting. But then your voice echoed in his mind — that sultry whisper.
“I want you to use your imagination…”
He clenched his jaw and palmed himself through his slacks, already hard and aching.
“So much for staying focused.” He said through gritted teeth before his belt came undone fast, pants unzipped just enough, and he shoved a hand down to wrap around himself, groaning low into the empty room.
He braced his heels against the floor and tipped his head back, eyes shut, letting the image of you burned into his memory carry him under.
Your thighs around his head. Your voice breaking on the phone. Your mouth, your taste, the way you pulled his hair and whispered his name like a fucking prayer as you came onto his tongue.
He hissed through his teeth, stroking slow, and desperate, like he could wring the need out of him. Just to get just enough relief to function like a human being again.
His other hand gripped the edge of the desk, panting, the lace clutched in his other fist.
“Fuck—” he grunted.
So close. So fucking close.
And then — BZZT.
The intercom crackled to life, cheerful and oblivious, “Boss? Just a reminder, your next meeting starts in five. They’re waiting in Conference Room B.”
He froze.
Chest heaving. His fist still clenched around himself. Eyes shut as he groaned to himself.
A full-body jolt of rage and regret ripped through him as he dragged his hand out of his pants and swore under his breath, gripping the arm of his chair like he might launch it across the room.
“For fuck sakes. Can’t I get 5 fucking minutes?” He groaned as he tossed your panties into the desk drawer.
He leaned forward, slamming the drawer shut with one hand and yanking his belt back through the loops with the other, trying not to curse Peter’s name out loud even though he knew it wasn’t his fault.
By the time he stood up, tucked in, buttoned up, and fully miserable, he was vibrating with tension.
He was wrecked.
Aroused, still hard and unrelieved. And about to sit through another forty-five-minute conversation about the fund’s reinvestments like he wasn’t fighting a full-body high from the taste of you.
He grabbed his suit jacket from the back of the chair and threw it over his shoulder, adjusting himself with a muffled groan as he made for the door.
He was going to make damn sure you didn’t leave the bed — or his lap tonight — not until you were both completely wrecked.
Not until you knew exactly what kind of imagination he had.
Reader’s POV
You barely had time to shake the lingering thrill of Harry’s hands from your skin before the grand revolving doors of the Ritz opened and your reality snapped back into place.
The lobby was already in a frenzy with a handful of fires needing to be put out.
“Y/N! Oh, thank god you’re back!” Sophia called the second you stepped into view from her position behind the desk.
You quickly made your way over to her, and she immediately began debriefing you on the situation at hand: “We’ve got a situation with Mr. Kimball in the Ambassador Suite — he’s saying the view isn’t what was promised in the online description?”
You blinked, looking down at the booking calendar. “Isn’t that suite on the forty-second floor?”
“Yes, ma’am.” She said with an annoyance in her voice, like she had already used that ammo against him.
“The one with panoramic views of the park and skyline?”
She nodded helplessly.
You sighed, smoothing your blazer. “Okay. Let’s go fix his ‘view’.”
What followed was a blur of problem-solving: appeasing the self-important tech mogul by personally arranging for his wine fridge to be swapped with a higher-end model and promising a comped couples massage “as a gesture of goodwill.”
Then came a housekeeping error — a bridal suite mistakenly double-booked. You juggled timelines and apologies like a magician until the guests were satisfied.
Barely twenty minutes later, a pop singer’s publicist requested the curtains in their penthouse be changed… immediately. They didn’t like the “vibe.” You kept your smile firmly in place, even when internally you wanted to scream as you’d changed them already to their request before their arrival.
But even at your most efficient, most unflappable, Harry lingered at the edge of your thoughts.
You were still wearing the dress he’d pushed up around your hips just a couple of hours ago. You were still bare beneath it. You could still feel the warmth between your thighs when you sat down.
And your body remembered every single second of it all.
Every slow lick of his tongue. The way he moaned against you. His teeth brushing your inner thigh as he looked up at you with fire in his eyes.
A shiver ran through you as and then your focus was redirected to an influencer complaining about their lighting in their room as it wasn’t ‘creating the vibe’ for their content. As if you could control that? Heaven help you.
It was after 3 p.m. by the time you finally escaped into your office. You dropped into the chair behind your desk and exhaled slowly, letting your head fall back with a quiet thud.
‘Just 5 minutes. Give me 5 minutes of silence.’
But when your phone buzzed in your pocket. You pulled it out and sat up a bit more — those 5 minutes went out the window happily with what you saw on your screen.
Harry 3:13 PM: Please tell me you’re alone.
You smiled, biting your lip.
You 3:13 PM: Temporarily. Why do you ask, handsome?
Harry 3:14 PM: Because I haven’t stopped thinking about what you taste like. My mouth is still fucking aching for you.
You crossed your legs under the desk instinctively, heat curling low in your belly as you watched those little three dots continue to pop up.
Harry 3:14 PM: I’m supposed to be reviewing a portfolio, and instead I’m hard under the goddamn desk.
Harry 3:15 PM: Because all I can picture is your thighs around my head.
Harry 3:15 PM: You sitting pretty on my face again while I take my time.
You swallowed thickly and glanced at the door, as if anyone could possibly know the kinds of messages lighting up your screen.
You 3:16 PM: Harry…
Harry 3:17 PM: You left me wrecked, baby. I can still smell you on my fingers. Still feel you trembling.
Harry 3:18 PM: Do you have any idea what that does to me?
Your breath caught. A warmth bloomed in your chest, then lower.
You sat your phone down for a moment, making him squirm a little bit, leave him wanting before texting back:
You 3:23 PM: Well, I might be squirming in my chair right now if that counts for anything…
Almost instantly he replied:
Harry 3:23 PM: It counts for everything. Fuck. I want you again.
Harry 3:24 PM: I wanted to bend you over my desk and give you something to think about when Todd started his petty little ramblings.
You stifled a laugh behind your hand, pressing your thighs together, tighter.
You 3:25 PM: You are relentless. God, I love you.
Harry 3:26 PM: Say that again.
Harry 3:26 PM: Because that’s the only thing keeping me from showing up at the Ritz and dragging you into a service elevator.
You 3:27 PM: I love you.
You 3:27 PM: Even when you’re being a menace like this.
You 3:28 PM: Especially then.
Your heart fluttered as you set your phone down. You felt like a damn teenager.
Then, after a few moments:
Harry 3:30 PM: Tell me this, does your bra match these panties I have in my pocket?
You smirked to yourself and bit your lip, thinking of your next move very carefully.
You 3:31 PM: Wouldn’t know. Didn’t wear one today.
Then you unbuttoned the first few buttons of your blouse which exposed your bare chest but only enough to tease before snapping a photo and sending it right after.
Three dots appeared immediately.
Then:
Harry 3:32 PM: I swear to God, woman. Are you trying to get me in trouble?
You burst into laughter just as your phone buzzed again — this time, Sophia’s name lighting up the screen.
Sophia 3:32 PM: I need help with Mr. Richards… his wife is complaining about the bill again.
Duty called. But you were already counting down the hours.
Still smiling, you typed one last reply:
You 3:35 PM: I have to go, but I’ll see you when I get home. ❤️ If you’re good, I’ll let you finish what you started on your desk.
Later that evening
You sent the text as you packed your things into your tote bag and slipped on your coat.
You 6:25 PM: Leaving now. Later than I hoped — traffic doesn’t look too bad. I’ll be home soon. Promise. 🤍
You were already imagining him — probably pacing by the window, eyes on his watch, checking the front door every few seconds like a madman. And the way your heart beated faster at the thought told you everything: you missed him just as desperately.
You hadn’t even made it to the service entrance before your phone buzzed again.
Harry 6:27 PM: Drive safely. And take your time. I love you.
For once, the traffic gods showed mercy. The ride home was smooth — you drove through the city’s grid like it had parted just for you.
Your knee bounced the entire way. The closer you got, the more your heart kicked up. It was a mix of excitement and nerves and the smallest bit of worry that maybe he’d gone too far out of his way to make tonight special. It was a little bit of was still carrying the weight of what had happened between you. Hell, maybe you were, too.
But that worry vanished the moment you stepped through the front door.
The apartment was warm with candlelight, golden and soft like honey. The air smelled faintly of roses — petals trailing over the floors, you couldn’t count how many bouquets were around the kitchen alone. There were at least 2 huge ones nestled along the entryway table near the door. There was a glowing hum of something romantic and delicate curling around every surface.
You slowly closed the door and put your keys in the little bowl like you always did, making the slightest noise.
You barely had time to turn around to absorb it all before you heard the door on the balcony open, followed by the soft thud of bare feet on hardwood.
“Hi.”
You turned to see Harry standing there smiling and buzzing with anticipation just as much as you were.
He was in that soft black sweater and dark trousers you loved him in. His sleeves rumpled at the elbow, curls tousled like he’d been running his hands through them. His eyes burned into yours, hungry and vulnerable and needy.
“Hey,” you said softly, your lips tugging into a breathless smile.
You looked around and bit your lip gently then looked at him with a sparkle in your eye and a playful grin, “Did you uh, buy out the local florist, honey?” you pointed your finger around the house.
He ran his thumb against his bottom lip and his cheeks flushed, a little sheepish under your gaze.
“I might’ve gotten carried away,” he murmured, glancing around the apartment. “Wanted it to feel like… you were walking into a love letter.”
You blinked at him, heart stuttering a little. The butterflies in your chest fluttered to life.
He smiled softly. “Too much?”
You shook your head, taking a step closer, voice barely above a whisper, “No. It’s perfect.”
That was all he needed to hear.
He just crossed the room to you like he couldn’t stay still another second, like he couldn’t be this far away from you any longer.
Without a word, his hands reached for your coat, gently and slowly sliding it off your shoulders like it was something delicate. His fingers lingered on your arms, like he didn’t want to let go.
Then he hung it up on the coat rack behind you and then came before you, kneeling slowly.
Your breath caught, and you couldn’t help but blush.
He looked up at you as his hands came to your ankles, fingertips barely brushing the curve of your calves as he reached to unbuckle your heels.
“Baby, you don’t have to—” you started, voice small.
“I want to,” he murmured, already easing the first shoe off. “Let me.”
Your heart thudded against your chest. Your hand landed on his shoulder for balance and just that little bit of added contact.
When the second heel dropped to the floor, he didn’t move right away. He stayed there, still kneeling, still looking at you like he was soaking you in — like this moment was something to engrave into his mind.
Then you reached down, fingers gently curling into the collar of his sweater, “Come here…”
You tugged him up, slow and deliberate. He rose to his feet like he was in a trance, letting you guide him until you could reach his mouth.
And then you kissed him.
It was slow and needy and hot and grounding, a sudden crash of lips and breath and desperate hands. Your back hit the door behind you as Harry pressed you there, mouths hungry, lips parting again and again like you couldn’t get close enough to one another.
You’d missed him — not just his body, but this: the way he touched you like he worshipped you, the way he showed his love with how he kissed you. The way his kiss always found a way to say ‘I’m yours’ before either of you had to say it out loud.
When his hands slid to your waist, pulling you flush against him, you moaned softly into his mouth. You could already feel the heat pulsing under his skin. He wanted you — badly.
But then he pulled back all of a sudden — only slightly, panting.
“I… I was gonna show you something,” he said, voice rough, lips brushing your cheek.
You blinked at him, dazed, “Can it wait?” You asked, leaning back in for his lips.
He smiled and pressed one last kiss to your mouth, then slipped his hand into yours, voice low and steady as he said, “Come with me.”
You followed, your now bare feet padding over rose petals toward the balcony. When the glass door opened, a soft night breeze swept in. The sky was dark, and the city lights flickered across the buildings.
You saw a little round table was set for two, lit by candles and a single tall taper. Wine glasses, glowing votives, and the warm scent of your favorite pasta from a little place downtown wafted into the night.
You swallowed thickly, stepping outside. “Harry, this is…”
“I wanted to make up for last night,” he said softly, coming behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. “For all of it. The late nights, the stress, for not making more time for us.” He kissed your shoulder softly, “I just want you to know how much I’ve missed you since getting back.”
You turned in his arms, your chest aching as you leaned into him, “Thank you…”
He hummed and kissed your forehead, then he pulled something from his pocket.
A small blue box but not one that made you assume a ring.
“Baby, you didn’t have to do all this,” you murmured, tracing the box’s edge with your finger.
“I know,” he said. “That’s why I did.”
You looked up at him then, at the way his eyes shimmered in the candlelight, the vulnerability in his expression — not because he doubted your feelings, but because he’d been desperate to show you his all day.
Your fingers trembled as you opened it. Inside, a delicate gold bracelet shimmered back at you — elegant, timeless, the kind of thing that whispered intimacy without needing to shout. Etched on the inside in tiny cursive was a single date.
The date you met.
Your breath hitched. “Harry, you shouldn’t of…”
“I saw it when we got back and couldn’t resist,” His voice dropped. “I don’t ever want to wait for a reason to give you the world.” He paused for a moment, “I want to give you pieces of forever, even in little things.”
Your chest tightened, and your voice barely made it out. “Harry…”
“I just…” He exhaled, shaking his head. “You’re it for me, mi vida. And if I don’t make that known — if I don’t protect what we’ve built… I’ll lose the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
Your voice was a whisper as you looked up at him. “You’re not going to lose me.”
His eyes searched yours. “Promise me?”
Tears prickled at your eyes as you nodded, your voice a little louder than a whisper, “I promise.”
He brushed your hair back, lips finding your temple ever so lovingly. “I just want to keep showing you I’m in this. That I’ll always be in this.”
You smiled through the sudden well of emotion in your chest, reaching up to touch his face. “I don’t need grand gestures,” you murmured. “But God, I love the way you love me.”
His lips twitched into something soft — reverent. His fingers skimmed your waist as you stood in the candlelight, still holding the bracelet box in one hand. The tiny gold band sparkled even in the softest glow, but it was the look on his face that truly stole your breath.
Like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to drop to his knees or kiss you until the walls gave way.
You glanced down at the bracelet box and offered it to him, heart full, “Put it on me?”
Harry gently took the box from you, and his fingers brushed the soft skin of your wrist as he fastened the delicate gold bracelet around it — a glint of polished metal nestled against your pulse.
“Perfect,” he murmured, turning your hand over, bringing it up to his lip and pressing a kiss onto the inside of your wrist.
Your heart swelled, but the tension between you had been humming all day — low and electric, building with every thought of his hands on you, every replay of his lips on yours, the lingering ache that hadn't been completely eased all week of missing him and now this — this genousity and display of devotion just fueled it.
You tilted your head, giving him a slow smile. “When we met, I had no idea you’d turn out to be such a romantic.”
He leaned in, brushing your cheek with his lips. “When we met, I had no idea I’d end up this obsessed.”
You let out a small giggle and wrapped your arms around his neck, teasing your fingers through the back of his curls, “You know, I thought you were trouble the second I saw you. I just didn’t know you’d be this kind of trouble.”
His grin deepened as he leaned in, lips brushing your cheek, “Only for you, baby.”
Then his voice dropped, a murmur as he nudged your nose as he asked, “Are you still how I left you, mi amor?”
The breath caught in your chest, and a chill ran down your spine.
“You didn’t give them back, remember?” you whispered, feeling heat bloom from your core outward. “So… what do you think?”
Harry let out a low, ragged breath, his eyes darkening as he surged forward, “Jesus Christ… come here,” he growled.
You were already moving before his lips were on yours — hands fisting in the front of his shirt, tugging him close, mouth finding his in a kiss that sparked hot and fast.
He kissed you like he needed to breathe. Like his hands were starving to memorize your body again.
There was no slow build — it was crash and burn from the first press of lips, the way your bodies collided in a tangle of breath and soft groans, all urgency and no patience.
“Dinner can wait,” he muttered into your mouth, pulling you inside the apartment and kicking the balcony door shut behind you both.
You barely made it inside before your back hit the wall with a thud that echoed between kisses — frantic and open-mouthed, desperate and deep. His hands roamed beneath your blouse, urgent fingertips mapping your skin like he hadn’t touched you in months instead of days.
He made a low sound in his throat when he felt how bare you were beneath your skirt as his hands started hiking your skirt up, thumb grazing the curve of your thigh.
“Fuck,” he breathed, he pulled back, forehead pressed to yours. “You really let me suffer through an entire day leavin’ the office like this…”
You smiled, breathless, nipping at his lower lip. “Seemed only fair after last night.” You playfully jabbed.
He groaned at you playing with his lip — that gravelly, gorgeous sound that always sent heat pooling low in your core — and grabbed your waist, pinning you against the wall harder this time. His mouth dipped to your neck, and your head tipped back with a gasp.
“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he said, voice gravel and worship and heat as he began lightly sucking at your pulse point.
His hand swept up your thigh, pushing your dress higher.
“I almost came in my office like a damn teenager.”
“Maybe you should’ve,” you breathed, hands in his hair, tugging him closer.
He groaned, smirking. “You would have liked that, wouldn’t you?”
Your fingers tugged his shirt free from his waistband, desperate to feel skin, friction, to feel him, “Baby, there’s a number of things I would like to do in that office of yours.”
You gasped as he lifted your leg to wrap around his hip — grinding his into hips yours with a tension-shattering roll. Your voice was a whisper, wicked and sweet against his lips before you leaned back in, “Knowing you were stroking your cock to the thought of me? No doubt that’s one of them.”
Harry cursed, hands gripping your waist like he might lose control. He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes — pupils blown, jaw tight, voice low and wrecked.
“Then allow me show you exactly what I pictured, my love.”
Chapter 11
Summary:
Your evening with Harry turns nerves and tension into one you both won't forget.
Chapter Text
Harry cursed, hands gripping your waist like he might lose control. He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes — pupils blown, jaw tight, voice low and wrecked.
“Then allow me to show you exactly what I pictured, my love.”
Then his mouth claimed yours like it was the only way he knew how to speak, hot and full of everything he’d been holding back.
The kiss had teeth now — wild, messy, built from days of frustration and everything unsaid.
His hands found your thighs, gripping them tight, and before you could blink, he hoisted you up. You gasped back a moan, feeling him hard against your clearly soaked cunt, your arms flew around his shoulders as your back met the wall again, this time harder, more possessively.
You wrapped your legs around him instantly, needy and aching. The throb between your legs had been unbearable, given how ready you already were after what had happened on his desk earlier.
“You’ve been walking around like this all day?” he muttered, voice rough and reverent as he ran his palms up your stocking-clad legs achingly slowly. “No panties? No bra? Just this little skirt and these… fuck, these stockings?”
You moaned, your hands in his hair. “I wanted to give you something to think about…”
“Oh, I did,” he rasped, biting gently at your jaw.
You grinned, “Yeah? Tell me what you thought about…” You moved your hand down to palm his cock through his trousers, egging him on.
He grunted and let out a small groan, “I thought about bending you over my desk. About fucking you over the conference table after that damn meeting. Thought about your mouth wrapped around me under the damn thing when Clarkson rambled on about contract terms.”
Your breath hitched as he lightly bit your earlobe, and you whimpered, moving in to start sucking on his neck, beginning to stroke him now, wanting to drive him mad.
He swallowed and groaned again, “Wanted to cancel my whole day when you were there today. Wanted to lock the office door, and make you sit on my cock until I finished my reports,” he growled, feeling you suck on his pulse point, marking him up.
Knowing he’d have a mark showing up in the office tomorrow made him smirk against your skin, his hips rolling subtly into your touch. His voice was gravel when he spoke again, the words curling hot against your ear, “Would’ve been so good for me, wouldn’t you? All ravishing and wet and mine… sittin’ pretty on my lap?”
“Harry,” you gasped, as he pressed a little harder against your hand, pushing you more against the wall.
“Say it,” he hissed against your ear. “Tell me who all this was for.”
“You,” you whispered, moving your hands up to his shoulders and now achingly and eagerly grinding your hips against his. “Only for you.”
“Fuck, baby… these…” he rasped, sliding his palms along your stockings, up and down, slow and calculated.
You moaned as his fingers slipped under the garter straps, snapping them lightly against your skin. “You like them?” You asked, smirking, voice low and husky.
“I’m obsessed,” he breathed, voice dark with heat. “You wear these and expect me to behave?”
You moaned softly and breathlessly whispered, “Maybe that’s the point…”
His hands gripped your thighs tighter, more possessively — like he was trying to hold himself back. Then his mouth was on your neck, biting gently before soothing the skin with his tongue.
“I missed this body,” he groaned. “Missed you making these sounds.”
You rocked against him, your voice breathless and hot against his ear, “Then stop teasing and fuck me.” Then you lightly nibbled his earlobe and pulled on it, letting out a soft moan as you did so.
He stilled for half a second — chest rising sharply, jaw clenched — and then he pushed forward more urgently, grinding his hips between your thighs with a low curse. “Fuck, querida…” His voice cracked. “Me vas a arruinar.” (You’re going to ruin me)
Then his hand slipped between your bodies, fumbling his trousers down just enough to free himself. The anticipation between your bodies was molten and unbearable. The moment his tip pressed against your center, you both gasped, like a fever finally breaking.
“God fu—” Harry rasped, forehead dropping to yours, and then he was sliding into you in one deep, hungry thrust that stole the breath from your lungs.
You cried out as he started to slowly pull back, your head falling back against the wall.
“This what you wanted?” he gritted as he pushed back in, faster and harder than before. “Me losing my fucking mind over you?” Then his hips snapped forward again and again, his mouth messy on your throat, sucking bruises as if he didn’t care if you had to cover them tomorrow.
“Yes—yes, fuck—” mewled as you held on.
He chuckled, it echoed deep in his chest as he thrusted into you, his voice lowering as he breathed, “You’re dripping for me, baby. Been soaking these pretty little thighs all day just thinking about me fucking you stupid, haven’t you?”
“God, yes—” you whined, panting as he rutted into your warmth over and over.
Your breathing was shaky and frantic, that peak starting to build up. It was like you couldn’t keep up with each breath with each rut of his cock into you.
Your fingers grabbed a handful of his hair and held him against your skin, almost incoherently rambling how good it felt and how you’ve missed him like this.
His lips kissed down your neck to your collarbone and then your shoulder, hearing your confessions.
Then, without warning, he changed the rhythm, and your voice cracked at the sudden break in pattern, the pause in your peak.
It was still desperate, still hot — but softer, a tad slower. His mouth slowed against your skin, kisses pressing gently instead of roughly. His hands moved to cup your ass, supporting you with such care, such devotion.
Then he stilled inside you, just for a beat — panting, moving his forehead against yours.
“I need more than a wall,” he whispered. “Wanna take my time with you. Wanna make this up to you right.”
He leaned in and kissed your lips deeply and slowly, and then again — without breaking away from your mouth or aching warmth — he carried you across the room to the nearest surface.
Your legs stayed wrapped around his waist, your body wrapped around him like he was the only thing anchoring you to this world.
He whispered against your lips the whole way there, “You look so fucking beautiful. Nearly fell to my knees when you walked through that door.”
He laid you back gently on the dining room table. Candles flickered behind you. Rose petals brushed the bare skin at the backs of your thighs.
Harry hovered over you, brushing your hair back from your face, his eyes devouring every part of you.
His voice was low and reverent again as he ran his fingertips up your calves. “I’m never gonna forget the sight of you like this.” He leaned back just a bit and brought your leg up, turning to kiss your ankle, calf, and knee — all the way up your stocking.
You smiled, flushed, panting, and aching for more of him. “I’ll remember to wear these things more often with how you’re acting.”
He grinned as he ran his hand up your leg to bring it back to wrap around his waist, “That’s a good girl.”
You bit your bottom lip as you looked up at him, “What else do you like, baby?” You tilted your head to the side as you started to unbutton your blouse slowly, eyes not leaving his.
“I love how you take me,” he husked, brushing his thumb over the slick joining you. “Fuck, baby… you were made for this. Made for me.” He started pulling his hips back, then slowly back forward to watch himself disappear into you.
God, he was beautiful like this. You would never tire of this view — hair a mess, lips swollen, chest heaving, pupils blown, and that grin he always wore when you wrapped around him.
It wasn’t just the sex, the feeling, the ecstasy, the intoxication you felt — but the way he looked at you when he moved inside you. The way he held you was like he would never let you go.
You reached up for him, tugging him back down to you by his sweater, needing his mouth, his taste — needing more of him.
“I need you.” You purred.
His lips met yours in a slow and passionate dance of lips, then tongue, as he started moving his hips again, it was slower — deeper.
His hand moved up to tangle with yours, fingers interlacing above your head. His mouth never left your skin — moving to your jaw, your temple, your shoulder.
“I love you,” he murmured between kisses. “Cada día te quiero más”
You nodded, feeling that peak build again, eyes glassy, lips trembling as your body arched up to meet him, your hands holding tightly onto his as you repeated, barely able to speak it fully, “Cada día te quiero más.”
Your legs tightened around him instinctively as his thrusts became slower and more attentive. He groaned at the way your body pulled him deeper.
His hand slid slowly from your wrist to your jaw, tilting your face toward his as he kissed you again — slow, deep, and with every fiber of passion he could.
You could feel it building — the tension coiling low in your belly, rising higher with every deep, deliberate roll of his hips.
Harry felt it too.
“That's it,” he whispered, breath warm against your lips. “Feel that, baby? Every inch of me, right where you need it.” He began panting.
Your whimper sent a shudder down his spine. He kissed the corner of your mouth, then dragged his lips to your jaw, murmuring as he rocked deeper into you.
“Let me take care of you tonight, all night. Let me make you feel everything I couldn’t say last night. Every promise. Every apology, mi vida.” He grunted as he felt you clench around him.
“Please, oh god—” you moaned as your fingers clung to his shoulders, digging into the soft fabric of his sweater as your back arched beneath him.
His thrusts were steady and smooth, deliberate and perfect — each one dragging along that spot that made your breath catch.
“You’re so tight around me,” he groaned, pressing a hand to the back of your thigh and lifting it just a bit more around his waist. “Estabas destinado a ser mío” (You were meant to be mine)
You couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t speak. Your only answer was a soft moan as your body started to tremble.
“That’s it… There it is,” he breathed, kissing your temple, slowing his pace just enough to drag the pleasure out. “You gonna come for me? You gonna let go for me?” He cooed.
You nodded frantically, nails scratching down his biceps, whining.
“Words, mi amor,” he rasped. “Tell me.”
“Yes—yes, I’m gonna—fuck—I’m so close—” You whimpered frantically, a heat building up your spine.
He grinned and kissed you then, soft and deep, his forehead pressed to yours as his voice dropped to a velvet hush.
“Come on, baby. I’ve got you. Let go for me. Let me feel you fall apart.”
Your body arched off the table as the orgasm hit — slow and shattering, rolling through you like waves breaking on the shore.
You cried out his name, your body trembling beneath him as you clung to him, clutching his body like a lifeline.
“Oh f–fuck…” You stuttered, feeling a second wave, bottom jaw trembling, your eyes rolling back.
Harry never stopped moving — gentle, grounding thrusts as he held you through it, kissing every part of your face he could reach. Your cheek. Your brow. The space beside your eye as tears welled and slipped free.
“Shhh,” he whispered, lips brushing your temple. “You’re so perfect, mi amor. You’re so fucking beautiful like this. Breathe, baby… that’s it.”
You whimpered his name, overwhelmed and undone, and he slowed even more — hips pressing flush to yours with each thrust. You whispered, voice almost gone, “You feel so good inside me. So full.”
His fingers stroked your hair softly, and he rested his forehead against yours as your body trembled to recover.
"Yeah?" he whispered while pecking your lips. "God — You’re so perfectly wrapped around me when you cum, you know that?"
You grinned and your cheeks flushed, nodding and humming in agreement.
Your nails dug into his biceps, head tipping back against the table as your hips lifted to meet each slow grind of his. It wasn’t frantic anymore — it was deliberate. Like he wanted to memorize every thrust, every moment that he was deep inside you.
"Give me one more?" he murmured, his voice wrecked and low against your throat.
You nodded, words lost, thoughts gone, breath hitching as your body tightened around him. His hips rocked forward with more intention now, coaxing you closer, watching your face with eyes that burned for you.
“That’s it,” he whispered, voice thick with devotion. “Let go for me. I want to feel you come again, cariño. I want to feel how much you’ve missed me.”
Your back slowly arched as he rolled his hips just right — deep, slow pressure against the spot that made you shudder.
His thumb moved between your bodies and circled your clit with the gentlest precision, dragging you closer to that edge with every movement.
“Just like that, baby,” he coaxed, mouth against your cheek, your jaw, your lips. “You’re almost there, I can feel it.”
You whimpered something that might’ve been his name, but your legs were trembling where they were around his hips — but he didn’t stop — he pressed deeper, whispering hot against your ear.
“Been thinking about you like this all week,” he panted. “About fucking you like this… about you coming so hard you forget your name.”
“Oh god—” you gasped, breath breaking, your eyes rolling back as you started to clench around him tighter than before, moments away from release.
“I know, I know…” he murmured, voice a string of curses and praise. “I’ve got you. Let me feel you. Come on, one more time.”
Your body convulsed, the pressure breaking in a wave so intense you couldn’t even speak — only moan, only clutch him closer as your orgasm tore through you. Your breath caught, and eyes blurred as the pleasure crashed down, full-body and raw.
“That’s it, that’s my girl,” he groaned, losing the last of his control at the sound of your whimpering. “Fuck, you’re perfect. So fucking perfect.”
He started to drive into you harder, chasing his own release now, his jaw tight, his hand fisted on the table beside you.
You were barely coherent but breathlessly egged him on, “You’ve been holding back all day. Don’t hold back now.” You took what energy you could muster and moved to
You took what energy you could muster and leaned in, lips dragging along the sharp line of his jaw before you caught his earlobe between your teeth. His whole body jerked, a guttural groan tearing from his chest. You sucked hard, then soothed the bite with your tongue, the taste of his skin mixing with the salt of sweat.
“Fuck,” he growled through gritted teeth, hips stuttering as he fought for the last ounce of control. His voice was wrecked, desperate. “Fuck—where do you want me?”
“Inside,” you breathed, your words shaky but certain, still trembling from the high that had already wrecked you. You sucked another bruise against his neck, your voice hoarse with need. “Come inside me, baby — I want to feel you dripping down my thighs.”
His body shuddered violently at your words. His hand gripped your thigh like he was anchoring himself to you, his other sliding beneath your back to hold you flush against him. His rhythm broke, his thrusts rough and uneven now as if your demand had stripped the last shred of restraint from him. Two more deep plunges and he was gone — groaning deep and guttural against your shoulder as he spilled into you, clutching you so tight it almost hurt, like he couldn’t stand even an inch of distance.
He stilled, body trembling, forehead pressed into your skin as his release pulsed between you.
You were both breathing like you’d run miles, tangled together, slick with sweat and love and everything you’d poured into this night. Your hearts pounded in sync, as if they’d been waiting for this moment to remember they belonged together.
Slowly, he began to move again, not thrusting but pressing kiss after kiss to your neck, your jaw, your lips — reverent, almost worshipful.
Then for a long moment, he didn’t move. Just rested against you, forehead to yours, his hand stroking your hair gently.
You smiled through the lingering haze, fingers playing with the curls at the nape of his neck, “I don’t know about you, but I just worked up an appetite. Did you say something about getting Palazzo Italiano?”
He chuckled, still slightly catching his breath, “I’m sure it’s cold by now, but yes, I had Ted get your favorite.” He pulled back to look at you, his thumb gently caressing your bottom lip, “I also got a little something for dessert.”
You kissed his thumb pad before leaning up to nudge his nose, “Is it a surprise or do I get to know?”
He bit his bottom lip before leaning down for your lips, whispering just before he kissed them, “You said to use my imagination — so you tell me…”
You let out a giggle and hummed contently before connecting your lips back with his.
Your breathing was still uneven when Harry finally eased his mouth from yours. His forehead stayed pressed to yours for a moment, the only sound between you the quiet hum of the city outside and the way both of you tried to catch your breath.
But then Harry’s expression shifted — softer, almost pensive — as his eyes flicked toward the open balcony door. Without a word, he scooped you up, making you squeal quietly in surprise.
“Harry what are you—”
“Shh,” he said with a small grin, carrying you through the doorway. The night air swept over you, cool but welcome, and the low hum of the city wrapped around you.
He set you gently into one of the balcony chairs before sitting down himself, tugging you right back into his lap. A thick, soft blanket was draped over the back of the seat, and he pulled it around both of you until you were cocooned against him.
“Not letting you go yet,” he murmured against your temple before kissing it.
You let out a soft laugh, brushing your nose along his cheek. “Not planning to go anywhere.”
The skyline glowed in the distance, candlelight flickering from the table beside you, and his arms wrapped around you, refusing to let you put any space between you.
For a while, you just stayed there — his hand tracing lazy shapes up and down your thigh, your fingers idly playing with the curls at the nape of his neck as you both enjoyed the city together. The pasta sat forgotten on the table beside you, steam long gone. Eventually, he reached for a fork and twirled a bite, holding it to your lips.
You smirked, taking it, then returned the favor, offering him one of your own. The playful back-and-forth left you both smiling, teasing over whose shirt was more wrinkled and who was going to have to explain the mess on the table to the housekeepers in the morning.
For a while after the pasta was gone, you laid your head on his chest and just listened to the sound of him breathing, the warmth of him beneath your cheek, his arms keeping you steady. But then his voice came — low, quiet, almost hesitant.
“These last few days…” He paused, his hand smoothing over your hair. “I hated the way we were so distant — so disconnected, y’know? Out of sync...” He paused and let out a soft sigh, “Then last night happened and I just...”
Your fingers curled gently into his sweater, but you stayed quiet, letting him speak.
“I didn’t just want to apologize tonight,” he went on. “I need you to know I don’t take this — us — for granted. I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you never doubt where I stand.” His voice softened even further. “You’re my home. And I can’t… I can’t lose my home.”
Your throat tightened as you lifted your head, meeting his eyes. “You’re not going to lose me, Harry. For once, I’m truly and blissfully happy. I want nothing more than to be with you.” You touched his cheek and softened your voice, “I’m yours.”
He studied you for a moment, searching your face, before leaning in to kiss you — slow, tender, nothing like the frantic heat from before. His hand cupped your jaw, his thumb brushing your cheek like you were something cherished.
It was only meant to be a kiss, but you felt the slow crackle begin again — that steady climb of heat that started in your chest and spread through every inch of you. His other hand slid under the blanket, fingers trailing along your spine in a way that made you shiver.
“Come here,” you whispered, shifting so you could straddle his lap beneath the blanket, briefly pulling from his lips.
His eyes darkened instantly, but he didn’t rush any of his movements. His palms skimmed your hips, his mouth reaching back to brush yours in small, reverent presses.
Every kiss was slow, deliberate — a quiet, wordless devotion. Your hands slid into his hair, holding him close as the city lights painted the edges of his face. His breath hitched when you rolled your hips against him, but instead of grabbing for you like before, he let it build — that lazy, intoxicating rhythm of two people who didn’t want the night to end.
“I love you,” he murmured against your lips.
“I love you,” you breathed back.
You deepened the kiss just slightly, your lips parting against his. His tongue brushed yours, slow and exploratory, and you felt that simmer between you turn molten again.
Harry’s hands eased beneath the blanket and up your sides, fingertips tracing your ribs. The soft friction of your hips rolling lazily against him made him breathe deeper, his jaw tightening like he was holding back.
His hands moved to the buttons of your blouse, undoing them with deliberate care. Each one came undone with a quiet click, the fabric parting to reveal more of your skin to the night. When the last button was freed, he smoothed the blouse from your shoulders, letting it fall down and off your arms before his hands settled back at your waist.
Your fingers toyed with the hem of his sweater before slipping beneath, palms sliding over the heat of his skin. He shivered at the contact, though you couldn’t tell if it was the chill of the air or the way you touched him.
“Let’s take this off,” you whispered against his mouth, tugging at the sweater.
He didn’t hesitate — lifting his arms and pulling back for a moment, just enough for you to pull it over his head, discarding it somewhere on the balcony floor. The cool air hit him, but you were already leaning back in for his lips, pressing your chest to his, sharing the warmth.
The air was brisk against your exposed skin, but it only made you both curl closer, tucking yourself against him. His lips moved and grazed your jaw, then your neck, each kiss slow, measured. The scent of the city mixed with the faint trace of his cologne, wrapping you in something intoxicating.
Your hands moved down his chest, slowly down to his trousers, pulling from his lips. You tugged lightly at his belt, your eyes finding his in the low light.
He didn’t look away, not even as you began to unfasten it, his gaze locked on yours like he was afraid to miss a second of this.
The sound of the buckle coming undone was quiet but heavy in the air between you. He let you push the fabric down his hips just enough, your hand brushing over the hard, steady line of him through his briefs. His breath stuttered, and he grunted, but he didn’t rush you, only guiding your hips to grind a little harder against his.
Beneath the blanket, there was no frantic tearing away of the rest of your clothes, just the unhurried slide of his boxer's fabric and the subtle hum of your bodies finding one another again. The cold only made you stay pressed tighter together, skin to skin, wherever you could manage.
When he finally eased you down onto him, it wasn’t a sharp, desperate thrust — it was slow, steady, the kind of movement that made you both exhale at the same time. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, holding onto him as the heat built between you, his hands cradling your hips with the kind of care that made your chest ache.
Neither of you spoke for a while, letting the quiet stretch out, the only sounds your breathing, small moans, slow kisses of lips, and the muted hum of the city below. Every shift of your hips was matched by his, deep and unhurried, keeping you close and warm beneath the blanket.
Eventually, the blanket shifted lower over your shoulders as you rocked slowly against him, every movement deep and measured. His hands held you in place, thumbs stroking absent, soothing circles over your hips.
“God, you feel so good like this,” he whispered into your hair, his breath warm against the shell of your ear. “Sittin’ on my lap. Takin’ me so well.”
You shivered, tightening your arms around his neck. “Harry…” The way his name left your lips made his jaw clench, his hips rolling upward just a little harder, hitting that deep spongy spot just right.
Your jaw slacked, and you whimpered, shutting your eyes to keep yourself under control, to keep yourself from losing control.
“Look at me,” he murmured, and you did — finding his eyes in the flicker of candlelight from the table beside you. “Want to watch every second of you falling apart. Want to watch you come undone.”
Your breath caught, your body instinctively pressing closer. “Then stop talkin’ and make me,” you whispered, the words barely forming before his mouth was on yours again, a grin spreading on your lips.
The kiss was everything — warm, unhurried, full of the kind of reverence that made your chest ache. You could feel him deep inside you with every slow grind of your hips, the cold air nipping at your back while the heat between your bodies kept you grounded in a way you couldn’t put into words, but it was intoxicating. Steam seemed to curl off the edges of the blanket where your skin met the chill, your shared heat battling the night air.
His lips left yours to trail down your jaw, his stubble scraping lightly over your skin as he dipped lower. He brushed his mouth along your collarbone before he moved the blanket off your shoulder just a tad to see your body in the light. The cold air hit your bare skin, making you gasp — but then his mouth was there, warm and wet, sucking gently at the swell of your breast.
You let out a soft, broken moan when his tongue circled your nipple, his free hand cupping the other in slow, deliberate squeezes. He alternated between sucking and nipping just enough to make your hips stutter against his. “Harry, please—”
“Shh, mi vida,” he murmured against your skin, his breath hot where the cold had bitten seconds before. “Just feel me.” He kissed your breast, “Let me take my time.”
Your body was a slow burn now, every movement winding you tighter. His hands slid up your back under the blanket, palms spreading wide like he wanted to hold every part of you at once. “You’re trembling,” he murmured against your chest, lips still grazing you between words. He grunted, feeling you clench around him, Spanish slipping from his lips, “Se siente muy bien, ¿no?” (It feels good, no?)
You didn’t understand anything other than ‘muy bien’, so you could only nod, your voice catching on a soft moan as you clenched around him again, edging on your climax.
“That’s it… just like that,” he coaxed, his voice low and steady, his hands moving down to your ass, controlling your movements even more. “Stay with me right there,” He groaned, and his jaw clenched as he began stroking himself out to the tip before sinking all the way back into you — driving himself near insanity with how good it felt.
You followed his movements, moaning with each stroke of his cock in and out of you.
“Let me take you there.” Then sealed his mouth back over yours, one hand cupping your jaw while the other moved up to grip your hip to guide the slow grind between you. The cold air became irrelevant — all you could feel was him, all you could hear was his voice urging you closer.
“That’s my girl,” he murmured, his lips brushing yours. “You’re so close baby, I can feel it.” He kissed your lips slowly and deeply a few times before whispering, “Quiero sentirte perderte aquí mismo en mis brazos...” (I want to feel you lose yourself right here in my arms)
The words wrapped around you like the blanket, pulling you higher, tighter. You gasped his name again, and that was all it took — your body tightening, your breath breaking into soft, desperate moans as you came around him, holding onto him like you might fall apart without his arms keeping you together.
He groaned low and deep, his grip on your hips tightening as your release pulled him right to the edge. “F–Fuck… baby, I’m—”
You cut him off with a kiss, his hand sliding into your hair, to the back of your head to keep you close as he spilled into you with a shaky exhale, every movement slow and deep until the last waves ebbed away and your hips slowed to a stop.
For a moment, you both just stayed there, panting against each other, foreheads pressed against each other, steam curling off your bodies into the night like a ghost of the heat you’d just shared.
Then you let out a little laugh — breathless, giddy — and mumbled as you moved to lie against his shoulder, “Think the neighbors heard that?”
Harry chuckled, voice low and satisfied. “Well, there’s a reason I pay twelve million for this place,” he teased, turning his head to kiss the corner of your mouth. “Don’t have to worry too much about neighbors.”
You giggled softly, the sound breaking some of the intensity, and he pulled the blanket back up, tighter around you both. And then his lips found yours again, slower now, lazy and lingering.
You traded small kisses, murmuring to each other about how you didn’t want the night to end.
Eventually, exhaustion took over, and your head found the curve of his shoulder again, your body melting into his as the city lights blurred softly beyond the balcony. His hand rubbed slow circles against your back, the rhythm steady and grounding.
The last thing you felt before sleep claimed you was the press of his lips to your temple and the quiet hum of his voice saying how much he loved you.
The Next Morning
The first thing you felt when you woke was warmth — deep and steady, wrapped around you like a second blanket, unlike yesterday. The second was the weight of his arm slung heavy over your waist, his palm splayed across your hip in an unconscious claim.
You laid there for a moment, eyes closed, listening to the quiet hum of the city far below and the faint rumble of early morning rain against the bedroom's windows and the beating of his heart as you lay against his chest.
When you finally opened your eyes, your gaze landed on him.
Harry sprawled on his back beside you, the blanket bunched low around his hips, chest bare and golden in the soft morning light that filtered through the curtains. His curls were a tangle over the pillow, a few stubborn strands falling over his forehead. His mouth was relaxed, lips parted slightly, and his breathing was slow and even — so peaceful it made your heart ache.
This was something you held close. You loved looking at him like this. No walls. No tension. No careful, public smile. No business posture. Just him.
Your eyes traced the familiar details — the faint line between his brows that only deepened when he was thinking too hard, the slope of his nose, the small patches in his beard, the pink flush still lingering in his cheeks.
You thought of last night — the way he touched you, the way he looked at you like you were something precious. You couldn’t help the blush that you felt in your cheeks and smile across your lips.
You felt your chest full of something you didn’t need to question. You could see it now — the future you had always wanted, always wished but never thought would come.
A home together. Quiet mornings like this. Laughter in a kitchen you both claimed as yours. Maybe a family?
Almost without thinking, your fingers lifted, brushing lightly over the curls at his temple. You combed them back gently, your nails grazing his scalp in a slow, soothing rhythm. It was absentminded, the kind of touch that came from instinct more than thought.
He stirred almost immediately, his brows twitching before his lashes fluttered open.
“Mmm,” he hummed, voice deep and rough with sleep. His lips curled faintly as his eyes found yours. “Morning, querida.”
Your mouth softened into a smile. “Morning.”
For a few beats, you just looked at each other — you, memorizing the way his eyes crinkled slightly when he smiled; him, still half-dreaming but already holding you close like he’d been waiting to wake up to be next to you.
Then he shifted, tucking you against his chest, and tilted his face to find your lips. The kiss was slow, almost lazy, just the brush of his mouth over yours, again and again, until you melted against him completely.
“You’re warm,” you murmured against his mouth.
He chuckled softly, kissing your nose, his hand rubbing up your back as he teased. “That’s a surprise — you stole all the covers last night.”
You scoffed dramatically, but couldn’t help the smile spreading across your face, “I did not!”
“You did,” he said, smiling into the next kiss, “but I’ll forgive you.”
You stayed like that for a while — slow, gentle, deep, sleepy kisses giving way to silence, the kind that didn’t need filling. His thumb stroked the edge of your hip where your shirt had ridden up numerous times yesterday, and you let yourself breathe him in.
Eventually, he leaned back just enough to look at you. “You okay? After last night?” His voice was careful, the question meant more for your heart than your body.
You nodded, kissing his shoulder. “Better than okay.” Your lips twitched in a small, private smile. “Actually… there’s something I wanted to ask you.”
His brows lifted slightly, curiosity flickering in his still-sleepy eyes. “Yeah?”
You hesitated, feeling your cheeks warm — which was ridiculous, because you’d already had this conversation less than two weeks ago in the Maldives. But this felt different. More real now that you were back home.
“Remember when I said… I wanted you to meet my family,” you began softly.
Harry’s smile spread slow and with certainty. “I do.”
You glanced down at his chest before meeting his gaze again. “Well, I want you to see where I grew up… I’d like to have dinner at my parents’ home. I want you to get to know my family outside of fancy weddings and the typical first phony ‘meet the boyfriend for the first time' dinners at an expensive restaurant.” You shyly looked down at your hand on his chest, “I want you to get to know and love them, just like I’ve grown to know and love your family.”
His hand flexed slightly on your waist. “I’d love that too, mi amor.” No hesitation, no flicker of doubt — just that warm certainty you’d come to know so well.
Relief instantly bloomed in your chest, and you looked up to meet his gaze again. “Really?”
“Really,” he said, leaning in to kiss the tip of your nose. “Been looking forward to it ever since you brought it up.”
You smiled, biting your bottom lip. “I was thinking… maybe we could do it sooner rather than later. This weekend, maybe?”
He sat up a little on his elbow, “I’d love that,” he said, voice soft. “I was going to suggest we host it here if that made you more comfortable, but… if your childhood home is where you want me to go, then we’ll do it there — plus, I’d love to see it.”
You paused, then leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his mouth. When you pulled back, your eyes held his, and a small, grateful smile curved your lips. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He took your hand and brought it to his lips, kissing your knuckles. “I want to know all of it, baby…” he said, smiling at you adoringly. “Where you scraped your knee when learning to ride a bike. What your room looked like. Which kitchen drawer had the.. . y’know… the mystery screws and random batteries and coupons…”
You laughed softly. “You mean the junk drawer, Mr. Richie Rich?” you teased.
“Exactly! The ‘junk drawer’...” he grinned, chuckling softly.
You chuckled, shaking your head before you softened and smiled, tilting your head at him, “So we’re doing this?”
“Yeah,” he said simply, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “We’re doin’ this. This is what makes you happy, and what makes you happy — makes me happy.”
Your throat felt tight again, in that way it always did when he said things like that — so easily, like it was the most natural thing in the world to choose you first.
“Thank you,” you murmured, leaning in to kiss him again — slow, unhurried, the kind of kiss that tasted like something you wanted to last forever.
When you pulled back, you stayed close, your foreheads resting together, the morning light spilling over both of you now as the morning was beginning.
You took a breath, your fingers absentmindedly tracing shapes into his chest. “There’s uhm, there’s this tree in the backyard — this old oak tree. I would read under it every summer. So much so that my dad built a little bench around it for me.” You smiled shyly down at your fingers.
His gaze softened as he watched and listened to you.
“I was convinced the roots were magic and the leaves would whisper if you stayed quiet long enough to listen,” You said with the most innocent smile across your lips
He tilted his head, heart-melting at the image. “Of course, you believed in whispering leaves, my love.” He leaned in and kissed your shoulder.
You smiled again, more wistful this time. “It’s still there. I’ll show you when we go.”
Harry leaned up and kissed your forehead. “We’ll bring a book… add some magic to the roots.” He kissed your nose before smiling as he said, “Escuche el susurro de las hojas.” (Listen for the whispering leaves)
You hummed contentedly and laid your head back down onto the pillow, “Guess I should warn you,” you teased softly. “My dad will probably grill you this time around. He won’t be all Mr. Nice Guy like he was at the wedding...”
He grinned, utterly unfazed. “Good. I’m ready for him.”
“You say that now…” You narrowed your eyes playfully.
“I mean it,” he said confidently, pressing a kiss to your temple and then laid his head next to yours, his thumb gently drawing circles into your hip. “I want him… and your mom to know I’m serious about you. That I’m not going anywhere.”
You blushed and met his gaze again before lightly combing his curls back and then leaning back in for his lips, kissing him slowly and deeply, hoping it would tell him what you couldn’t put into words in this moment.
His phone buzzed from the nightstand— an alarm — he sighed as he pulled back from your lips slowly, brushing his fingers down your arm. “I’ve got twenty minutes to pull myself together before Clarkson calls and asks if I’m dead for not being in the office already.” He let out a groan and then pecked your lips a few more times, not wanting to leave the bed.
You giggled and kissed him once more, slow and deep, before pulling away and whispering, “Go, before you get fired.”
He groaned but rolled out of bed anyway, dragging himself toward the closet reluctantly.
Halfway there, he paused, glancing over his shoulder with a small grin. “Why don’t you call your mom — make it official?”
You propped yourself up on your elbows, hair tumbling over your shoulders. “Yeah. Good idea. Does this Sunday work for you?”
He stood in the doorway of the bathroom, leaning on the frame as he looked back at you. “I’ll make whatever day work for this.” His voice carried that same soft certainty from earlier, the one that made your chest feel too small for your heart.
Then his playful grin returned. “Oh, and tell her I said hello!”
You rolled your eyes with a smirk. “You know she already adores you after how she hung on you at the wedding. There’s no need to suck up to her now.”
He disappeared into the bathroom, laughing. “I’m not sucking up to her, I’m working through her to get on your dad’s good side. Remember? He’s going to grill me.”
Shaking your head, you chuckled and reached for your phone on the nightstand. Your pulse skipped just a little faster as you scrolled to her contact and hit dial.
Sunday - Winters House
The late afternoon air was crisp, the faint scent of woodsmoke curling through the quiet neighborhood as you and Harry stood at the foot of your parents’ porch. Your coat felt both too warm and not warm enough, your fingers fiddling with the edge of your sleeve as you stared at the front door, your heart beating quickly from both nerves and excitement.
Harry shifted the bouquet of lilies in one hand and the bottle of aged scotch in the other — one for your mom, one for your dad — looking every bit like someone ready to charm a family dinner. His pressed jeans and green dress shirt under his black coat made him look warm but respectable — they were neat but not stiff. His curls were perfectly disheveled in the way that always made you want to comb your fingers through them.
You didn’t even realize how tense your shoulders were until his voice broke through your thoughts.
“Hey,” he murmured, leaning in just enough so his words stayed between you. “You’ve gone quiet on me.”
You forced a little smile, eyes flicking to the door. “Sorry, just… nervous, y’know?”
His brow furrowed, not with worry but with that soft kind of understanding he always seemed to have for you. He switched the flowers and the bottle into one hand so he could reach for yours, wrapping your cold fingers in his warm palm.
“You know,” he began, tilting his head slightly, “I’m the one who’s supposed to be nervous here. Meeting the parents. The very high percentage for a possible interrogation. The famous family dinner dynamic when meeting the boyfriend... that’s my job, yeah?”
A faint laugh escaped you despite yourself. “You’re impossible to shake up, aren’t you?”
“Maybe,” he admitted, grinning, “but I also know it’s all going to be okay. And think about it — Ben and Lila are going to be here. Worst-case scenario, they can run interference. Best case, we end the night with pie and your dad telling me embarrassing childhood stories about you.”
Your nose wrinkled. “Oh God, you’re right...”
He chuckled, “That’s not a bad thing! For the record, I want the cute baby album coming out!” he teased, squeezing your hand. “It means I’ll get the full picture. Which is exactly what I want.”
The knot in your chest eased a little, and before you could reply, he dipped his head, pressing a kiss to your lips — slow enough to anchor you, quick enough to keep the moment just yours. “We’ve got this, mi amor,” he murmured against your mouth.
You let out a small breath, your forehead resting against his for a beat longer.
When he finally pulled back, he looked at you with that quiet confidence he wore so well. “Ready?”
“Ready,” you whispered, even if your heart was still racing.
He handed you the bouquet for a moment so he could tuck the scotch more securely under his arm, then took them both back, straightening like a man about to seal the deal on the most important meeting of his life.
Together, you stepped up to the front door, took one last deep breath in sync, and knocked.
Chapter 12
Summary:
Family dinner with your side of the family brings up future intentions and wounds from the past.
Chapter Text
Harry’s POV - Earlier that evening
Harry adjusted the cuff of his shirt for the fourth time, though it didn’t need it. The fabric was already smooth, pressed sharp against his wrist, the gold ring on his finger glinting in the bedroom’s soft light.
He should’ve felt ready—his clothes were neat, hair in place, shoes polished to a quiet shine. But instead, his nerves prickled beneath the surface like static with what was about to happen. Despite the cool and calm demeanor he’d given you about tonight, his mind was racing, he was nervous—and he never gets nervous.
Meeting your parents wasn’t new. Not really. He’d known them in passing long before he finally met you. A handful of charity dinners, a fundraiser or two, a garden party at Ben and Lila’s that you couldn’t make it to. He knew your mother to be kind but quite harsh to you and Lila when it came to her expectations. Your father, however, adored the ground you both walked on—he was kind, good-hearted, loyal, and an overall typical family man.
Until the wedding, they had only smiled at him, made some small talk as one of Ben’s friends—an amiable guest, charming enough, but distant from their family, never expecting that he’d be their oldest daughter’s boyfriend.
But all of that was before you. Before the wedding. Before the slow unraveling of nights and mornings that made his chest feel so full that now he almost couldn’t breathe without you around.
And tonight—tonight was different. Because now, he wasn’t just some distant name they’d hear in passing or on Lila’s guest lists. He was the man who loved their daughter—the man who wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.
He exhaled through his nose, muttering to himself in the mirror, "Come on, pull yourself together."
He could hear you humming to yourself in the bathroom several feet away, also nervous about tonight.
He started to pace the room, restless energy starting to pull him toward the closet.
For the last few days, he'd been debating whether he should bring something specific to discuss with your parents.
Quietly, he stepped inside and crouched down, pulling out the battered shoebox from its hidden corner.
The lid creaked open, and there it was—the jumble of pieces he couldn’t let go of throughout his life.
The childhood stuffed rabbit, from his grandmother—worn soft with years of being held tight in small fists, the stitched ear hanging by a thread, the fabric nearly threadbare. His grandfather’s pocket knife, dulled but steady in his palm. His father’s old watch, the leather cracked but still ticking faintly when wound. A photo of his mom and dad when they first met—an example of a great love story for him.
And then, nestled beside it, was the small boutonniere from Ben and Lila's wedding. A lily, pressed and fragile, wrapped in the ivory pocket square all of Ben’s groomsmen wore. He remembered the wedding as if it were yesterday—the warm air thick with champagne and laughter. The moment you brushed past him when you ran toward the florist. It nearly knocked the breath out of him.
He’d kept a piece of that night, carefully tucked away, a gentle reminder of the night his life changed for the better.
Beside it lay his sleek black mask from the masquerade. His chest tightened as he picked it up, remembering the way you’d looked under lights, how it was the night he realized that it wasn’t just him who had deep feelings. It was that night, you had changed him—quietly and completely.
And then under all that, there was the ring box, sitting there like the quiet weight of the future.
Harry hesitated, his fingers hovering to take it before he flipped it open.
The heirloom sparkled back at him—an oval diamond set in a cathedral band designed to last lifetimes. A family piece, worth more money than he wanted to put words to. But none of that mattered compared to what it meant to him. His mother had once told him it was the kind of ring you gave when you weren’t just promising love, but a life. Stability. Home. A family.
And God, he wanted that all with you.
He thought back to the Maldives—the way you’d looked at him when you asked him to meet your family officially. How your voice had trembled, hopeful but nervous, like you didn’t quite believe someone would say yes so easily. He thought to that night on the beach when you both said I love you for the first time—how he can't imagine how marrying you will feel when just hearing 'I love you' for the first time felt that euphoric. He thought about the night on the balcony, your whispered I love you’s drifting into the night air. And he thought about this morning. How your fingers combed his curls back as your sleepy voice whispered about a home together, eventually, planning your futures with each other—how much love you had for one another.
To think about his future—his future with you? It had been the clearest he’d ever felt about anything in his life.
He thought for a split second again about bringing the ring tonight. To have it in his pocket as a quiet anchor. He wanted to hold it in his palm when he sat across from your parents as he told them, without hesitation, that his intentions weren’t casual. To show them that he wasn’t just passing through your life—he was here to stay.
But then doubt crept in.
'Is that too much, too soon? Is asking for your hand this soon sending the wrong message?'
It had been just over two months since the wedding, barely two weeks since the Maldives. Would your parents see it as a romantic commitment—or reckless arrogance?
He could almost hear your mother’s sharp, assessing tone, your father’s skeptical silence.
He rubbed a hand over his jaw and stared at the box for a moment more—the weight of the choice pressing harder.
Cuando lo sabes, lo sabes was always something his father would tell him as he grew into a man and questioned if someone was right for him.
"When you know, you know." He murmured.
And he knew. He'd known since walking down the aisle with you, since that dance by the fountain.
He wanted them to understand that he was sure about you, about this. He wanted them to understand how serious he was. That he wasn’t wasting time—hell, if anything, he was trying to make up for lost time.
He wanted them to know that he already knew he wanted to marry you.
So much so that he already knows when he wants to ask. But the second he thought about his plans, he reeled himself back. He didn’t want to scare them. Or worse, make a fool of himself.
Harry let out a low breath and shut the box, slipping it beneath the boutonniere, the mask, the little fragments of himself.
‘Not tonight. Not yet.’
Tonight was about showing them who he was with you—steady, committed, serious. That would be enough.
“Baby?” Your voice carried from the bathroom, light and familiar.
He startled, fumbling the shoebox lid back on. You stepped into the closet doorway just as he was crouched in the closet, heart racing as he scrambled to cover the box.
“What do you think?” you asked, smoothing your hands down the outfit you’d spent all afternoon debating wearing. There was a shy lilt to your tone, like you cared more about his opinion than you cared about your own.
Harry blinked, feeling caught in the act. “Perfect,” he said, too quickly. His voice sounded wrong even to his own ears, flat and distracted.
Your brows knit, and you tilted your head, confused by the short response. “Perfect? That’s all you’ve got for me, handsome?” You stepped closer, suspicion sharpening as you saw how flustered he looked in the corner of the closet. “What are you doing down there?”
He glanced at the floor, slipped his ring off his finger quickly, then lifted his hand, flashing the gold band and green stone he wore daily between his fingers. “Dropped my ring.” Then he slid it back onto his finger as casually as he could manage. “Was lookin' for it.”
Your expression softened immediately, the suspicion fading into relief. “Oh.”
“Now,” he said, pushing smoothly to his feet, brushing imaginary dust from his trousers, “What did you ask me? Say it again for me, my vida.”
You tilted your head the other way, amused. “I asked what you thought of my outfit… is it too much?” You held your hands out to show your sweater, moving your hips a little, feeling shy about asking.
Harry stepped close, letting his gaze travel over you properly this time, lingering with the loving desire in his eyes that you deserved. His lips curved. “I think you’re going to make it very hard for me to concentrate on anything but you tonight.”
You instantly melted and ran your hands up his chest to land around his neck, "You don't look too shabby yourself, handsome."
He pinched your chin gently between his fingers before leaning in and kissing your lips gently and slowly, lingering against them before saying, “Cada día te quiero más."
That earned him the smile he’d been craving—and with that, the nerves in his chest loosened just a little.
He was still carrying the weight of the box in his mind, the ring he couldn’t wait to see on your finger. But as you laced your fingers with his and led him out to leave, Harry knew one thing for certain:
He didn’t need the ring in his pocket tonight to show how serious he was about you tonight. He just needed you by his side—and the rest can speak for itself.
Back to the present
The door opened after only a few seconds, and there was your mom—perfectly put together as always. Her hair smoothed into place, those famous pearls she always wore at her throat, and the faint scent of her signature perfume wafted into the cool air.
“Well, look who’s finally here,” she said with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “We were beginning to think you’d forgotten or worse… gotten lost.”
“Only by ten minutes,” you said carefully, optimistically. “Traffic getting out of the city was unexpectedly busy.”
Harry beat your mom to the follow-up, his voice easy and warm. “I’d like to say we're fashionably on time,” he said, holding out the bouquet. “For you—lilies. I remembered you said at the wedding how they are your favorite.”
The faintest blush touched her cheeks as she accepted them. “Oh… well, thank you, Harry. They’re lovely.” She looked at you and gave you an impressed look before looking back to Harry, “That was very sweet of you.”
“And,” Harry added, producing the sleek bottle of aged whiskey, “something for Mr. Winters.” He smiled, “I’ve heard he has excellent taste.”
“Harry, please—call me Walter,” your dad said as he appeared in the doorway, reaching out and shaking Harry’s hand firmly. The tone was cordial, polite—but you caught the faint difference from the relaxed banter they’d shared at the wedding.
“Walter, it’s good to see you again, sir,” Harry replied, matching his grip with steady confidence. “I’ve been looking forward to tonight.”
Your dad’s mouth curved just a little as he joked. “We will see if you still say that after dessert.”
You rolled your eyes, but Harry chuckled—the sound easy and genuine. “I’m counting on it, sir.”
Your mom cleared her throat and moved aside, “Well, come in, you two. Come out of the cold.”
You both stepped in, Harry’s hand on the small of your back, offering you to step in first.
Once the front door closed behind you, your mom’s gaze skimmed over you in that quick, assessing way she’d done for years, “I see you didn’t wear the cardigan I sent you. It would’ve looked so nice with that skirt you're wearing.”
Your stomach tightened at her critical jab—especially after stressing all day about what to wear—but Harry, without missing a beat, smiled as he helped you slip out of your coat. “I think she looks perfect,” he said simply, like it was a fact beyond dispute. “If I'm being honest, Mrs. Winters, you’ve clearly passed your good taste on to her, don’t you think?”
Your mom’s brows lifted slightly, and for once, she didn’t have a comeback—just a faint, surprised smile and agreeable hum.
He looked back at you and winked, then back at your mom, “Well, it smells delicious in here! Is there anything I can help with?”
Your mom gently touched his arm, going back into her ‘hostess’ role, “Oh, you’re too kind, Harry. No, I am just finishing up. Come in, let me grab you a drink. Bourbon neat, right?” She started to pull him toward the dining room as she walked.
Harry moved his hand to lace with yours and pull you alongside him. “You remembered?”
“Of course! You ever wonder where Y/N gets her memory and attention to detail from?” she gloated.
You muttered under your breath so she couldn’t hear, “Oh, I don't know… perhaps years of living with a perfectionist? Years of childhood trauma?”
Harry heard you and glanced sideways at you with a subtle smirk, squeezing your hand gently.
As your mom breezed ahead of you both towards the living room, he leaned in, dropping his voice low so only you could hear, “If this is how she acts when I bring flowers and whiskey, imagine how she’ll be when I bring you back with a ring on your finger...”
You choked on a laugh, trying to mask it with a cough as your mom’s head snapped back, thinking you were laughing at her.
Your eyes widened at him. “Harry…”
He shrugged innocently, lips twitching into a grin. “Just bein’ honest…”
You shook your head, but the corner of your mouth curved despite yourself. The anxious knot in your stomach loosened a little more—just enough to make the room feel less suffocating.
Your cheeks blushed, and you leaned your head against his shoulder for a moment, taking in that someone, for once, was on your side when coming back home.
Your mom nudged your dad, who was distracted by a football game on the TV, “Honey, can you turn that off, get Harry’s drink, and for Y/N, a water, right?” She suggested.
You nodded and smiled politely, “Sure, mom…” not speaking up with what you’d actually like since you knew she’d give you shit for wanting a drink in front of Harry.
Harry noticed your shift and cleared his throat gently, his arm moving to loop casually around your waist. “Actually,” he said, glancing down at you, then back at your mom with an easy smile, “she mentioned on the way here that you guys had that red that was served at Lila’s wedding. The Pinot? She’d love a glass of that. Right, querida?”
Your head snapped slightly toward him, surprised. Not just that he remembered—but that he said it. That he said it here, in this house, to her, where your wants were usually dismissed before they even found breath.
You stuttered for a moment, then looked back at your mom, “Yeah, but only if you have it, Mom.”
Your mom blinked, her smile faltering just a fraction. “Well, yes, we still have a bottle of that in the cellar. I guess I’ll go get it.”
“Perfect! Thanks, Mrs. Winters,” Harry said warmly, giving your side a soft squeeze.
Your father gave a small smile of approval to himself from the liquor cabinet as he poured Harry’s glass.
Your mom disappeared toward the kitchen, and the second she did, Harry leaned closer to murmur in your ear, “Just say the word, and I’ll leave with you in less than five minutes.” He kissed your temple. “But, just for the record, I’d stay through a thousand awkward dinners if it means making you feel seen, my love.”
You blinked fast, and your throat tightened, so you leaned up and softly kissed his lips to stop you from crying before murmuring, “I’ll start to caw like a bird if we get to that point…” you joked, then gently wiped the red lipstick from his lips with your thumb.
He chuckled and winked, but then leaned back in close and whispered, “No bat signal here, Batman?”
You bit your bottom lip and giggled, “Shh, you’re going to blow my cover!”
He pecked your lips and then your cheek, “Mmm, we can’t have that now, can we?”
You were about to say something when Lila’s voice carried down the staircase behind you. “There you two are!” She said from the top of the stairs, beaming, with Ben right behind her. However, before they could get down the stairs, your family’s dog, Grizzly, was barreling down to greet you.
You gasped and crouched down, “Grizz! Come here, baby boy!”
The big black Newfoundland German Shepherd mix came up to you, tail wagging, and barked excitedly as he leaned up against you for affection.
You giggled as he almost knocked you backwards. “Easy, buddy. Yes, I missed you too!” You scratched behind his ears and under his chin, then looked up at Harry as he stood beside you, watching, “This is the famous Grizzly I've told you about, baby.”
He slowly crouched beside you and smiled, offering his hand for the giant ball of fur to sniff, “Is this the same Grizzly with all the opinions?” He teased.
You chuckled and nodded, standing slowly as you watched them interact.
Grizzly turned towards Harry and sniffed his hand, his ears back cautiously, his movements slow as he assessed the new member of the household.
Harry’s voice changed, something goofier, something you’d not heard before, “Well, aren’t you a handsome boy… yes, you are.”
Grizzly looked up at Harry’s face and tilted his head at the voice before he sniffed him more aggressively, then started licking his cheek when Harry gently started scratching him exactly where you’d just been.
Harry chuckled and looked up at you, “I’m taking this as he has a good opinion of me?”
You shrugged, then winked, “For now.”
Harry bit his lip at your playfulness and grinned, turning his attention back to Grizzly, "Yeah, you have a good taste in boyfriends, don't you, Grizzly? Yes, you do!"
Lila came down the stairs, opening her arms for you, “The prodigal daughter and my favorite of Ben’s friends have arrived!” She hugged you, kissing your cheeks.
“Hey now, you like all my friends, sweetheart,” Ben chuckled, coming down behind her.
Harry stood as Grizzly ran off towards the kitchen and smiled at Ben and Lila—his hand coming to rest on the small of your back.
“Yeah, but I like Harry the most—he got me that expensive cookware set I wanted as a wedding gift!” She teased, as she kissed Harry’s cheek and hugged him, squeezing his arms when she pulled back to look at him.
“Good to see you, Harry.”
He leaned in and kissed her cheek, smiling softly, “Likewise, Lila.”
Ben grinned, and after Lila moved aside, he stepped in to give Harry a firm handshake, pulling him into a hug, clapping him on the back. “You better not be trying to steal my title as favorite son-in-law, Castillo!”
“No promises,” Harry grinned. “I came bearing gifts and charm.”
“Good,” Ben muttered under his breath, “you’re gonna need both with the missus,” then gave Harry a look that suggested to be on his A-game.
Your dad returned with the scotch in a nice crystal glass for Harry, and your mom followed close by with your wine. “So—how was the trip?” your dad asked, leaning casually against the back of the couch nearby. “I hear you had a bit of an adventure.”
Harry’s voice slipped easily into the center of the moment—not dominating, but guiding it just enough to take the pressure off you. “It was incredible,” he said, glancing toward you, softening immediately. “Beautiful weather, great company, a little bit of work here and there, but a lot of fun… and,” he added with a grin, “if I’m speaking for the both of us—it went by a little too fast. Could have used another two weeks, right, mi vida?”
You looked at him and shrugged, smiling softly, “Mmm, I could argue more like three weeks was needed.”
That drew a laugh from Ben and even a chuckle from your dad and mom.
Harry chuckled and began telling everyone about how much his family loved you, how they keep asking about you, and can’t wait for more time to get to know you.
You looked to Lila, who was already glancing towards you, and smiled warmly. She raised her glass a tad and gave a supportive wink.
Dinner started well enough. Your dad, always warmer and easier, reached for his glass and asked conversationally, “So Harry, remind me, you still in that big exec suite on Main with Ben?”
“Stonebridge Capital,” Harry nodded with a polite smile, swallowing his food. “Yes, sir. Still going strong. We just closed a growth equity deal with a mid-market logistics firm. They’re a family-owned, generational business. Solid fundamentals, they just needed capital and strategic guidance to scale.”
Your dad raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed, covering his mouth as he took a bite. “You structured it as a control deal or minority stake?”
“Majority,” Harry said easily. “Carved out 72% post-money. Their management’s staying on. Ben can tell ya, we’re big on founding continuity where it makes sense. We’re reworking their cap table now and already drafting an operational roadmap for Q3.”
Ben nodded along and smiled from across the table.
Your dad gave a slow, approving hum. “Not an easy sector to optimize. There’s a lot of margin pressure, yeah?”
“Exactly,” Harry agreed. “But they’ve got vertical integration potential, especially if we build out last-mile. We’ve brought in a few strategic operators to advise, and my team’s working on a bolt-on acquisition to expand the geographic reach.”
Your dad smirked and set down his fork, leaning in, interested. “Sounds like you’re teeing it up for a five-year exit.”
Harry chuckled, getting excited to talk about this with him, leaning in as well. “Give or take. We’re not rushing it, but we’ve already had soft interest from a couple of strategics. Could flip it to a sponsor-to-sponsor if the EBITDA scales the way we expect it to.”
“Impressive,” your dad said, glancing at you, explaining so you could understand, as this level of shop talk usually went over your head, “Those aren’t easy to negotiate, Bug. Especially if he's juggling internal politics and founder dynamics...”
You nodded and smiled, lifting your fork to take a bite, “There’s a reason he’s in the executive suite. He’s good at what he does.” You smiled towards Harry and gently nudged him with your elbow.
“Honestly, carino,” Harry said after you took your bite, and he reached over to gently bring your hand into his, “it was something you say quite often, that has helped me in these situations—about how most people just want to feel seen. It helped reframe the pitch to them. Made all the difference in the room.”
He turned your hand and brushed a kiss across your knuckles. Your heart skipped, your stomach fluttered—and even your dad’s face softened at the gesture.
“That’s what I love about her,” he continued easily, looking at your family. “She sees people. She makes you feel like you matter. Like you’re not invisible.”
Your heart swelled with how gentle he made it sound. Like loving you was the easiest thing in the world.
“That’s my Bug. She's always been someone to make people feel seen and important.” Your dad said proudly.
Harry looked at your dad, then back to you. “I’ve always been curious… how did the nickname Bug come about?”
Your dad’s smile curved slowly, a glint of memory softening his eyes. He leaned back in his chair, glass cradled loosely in one hand.
“Well,” he began, voice dipping into that fond, far-off tone you’d heard only when he talked about the old days. “When she was little—two, maybe three—she had this ritual. Every night, when I came in to tuck her in, she’d wrap herself up so tight in her blanket you could barely see her nose peekin' out.”
You felt your cheeks warm immediately. “Dad…”
But he grinned and kept going, undeterred. “And every single night, like clockwork, she’d look up at me with those big eyes and say”—he pitched his voice higher in a little-girl impression—“‘Daddy, I’m as snug as a bug in a rug.’”
Harry laughed under his breath, the sound low and warm.
“First time she said it, I about keeled over,” your dad continued, his own laughter threading through the words. “And then she kept saying it. Every night, without fail. That was her thing. So eventually, I’d walk in and instead of asking, ‘Ready for bed?’ I’d just say, ‘Where’s my Bug?’ And she’d pop her little head out of that blanket, grinning ear to ear.”
You hid your face in your hands with a small groan, though you couldn’t stop the smile tugging at your lips.
“Before we all knew it, it just stuck,” your dad finished warmly, looking straight at Harry now. “Bug. That’s what she’s always been to me. Small but mighty. The kind of kid who could curl herself into a ball and still light up the whole damn room.”
Harry’s mouth curved slowly, like the story had just stitched itself into his bones. He let out a soft laugh. “That’s adorable. Thank you for sharing that with me.” His thumb swept across your knuckles again as he looked at you, eyes lingering like he was memorizing you all over.
Before you could say anything, Lila piped up from across the table, grinning over her glass of wine. “You know, that’s not the only version of the story, Harry...”
You shot her a warning look. “Lila…”
She ignored you entirely, eyes dancing with mischief as she leaned her chin into her palm. “When we were kids, and she’d do something to make me mad? I used to tell her the real reason she was called Bug was because she was being a stink bug.”
Harry barked out a laugh, the sound warm and unrestrained. “A stink bug?”
Lila nodded solemnly, though her grin gave her away. “Oh yeah. I’d look her dead in the eye and go, ‘Dad and Mom lied to you! The reason that they call you Bug is because you stink! You’re a big old nasty stink bug.’” She paused for dramatic effect, then added lightly, “Honestly, still open for interpretation—she still gets stinky.”
You groaned and buried your face in your hands again, muttering, “You are insufferable.”
Harry’s laughter only grew, his arm brushing yours as he leaned in slightly. “I’m loving this dynamic, baby,” he said, eyes still gleaming with amusement as he glanced at your sister. “I think I’m starting to get the full picture.”
Your dad shook his head, chuckling under his breath. “Don’t listen to her. She’s just jealous I never called her anything that cute.”
Lila smirked. “Jealous? Please. I’ll have you know, ‘stink bug’ was premium material for me at age five to get under her skin.”
“Premium my ass,” you shot back, but even as you said it, you were laughing too.
“Y/N! Language!” your mom gasped, which only made you and Lila laugh more.
Harry looked between the two of you, his hand slipping over yours again under the table. His smile softened as the laughter ebbed and the conversation switched to your mom sharing how, for your first Halloween, you were also ironically, a ladybug—promising to show Harry photos later.
Dinner continued with more conversation about your travels to the Maldives, the upcoming winter weather and holiday season, and the latest updates on Ben and Lila’s home renovations.
Harry, as always, moved easily within it—polite, charming, asking your dad about his work at the firm, making Lila laugh with a small story about how Ben almost forgot their rings during their wedding. Only find them miraculously in his shoe when he put it on minutes before needing to walk down the aisle.
It was all going perfectly as you all just sat with your drinks after finishing eating.
But the moment your mom set her glass down with a delicate clearing of her throat, you knew the evening had just tilted.
“So, Harry,” she said, her eyes sharp though her smile stayed polite. “I imagine your parents must have… concerns about all this. About Y/N...” She flicked her hand in your direction, like you were just a footnote.
Your glass of wine stilled midair as you went to take a sip, and your heart sank. “Mom…”
“What I mean to say,” she continued, smooth as ever, “is that your world, your lifestyle… It’s not exactly the same as the one she was raised in. Families tend to care about those sorts of things. I would think your parents might worry about the… differences. I mean, we certainly do.”
Heat climbed your neck, and your stomach twisted, and you felt your heart pounding all the way in your ears. You swear you felt tears edge your eyeline.
Of all the things she could’ve said, she had gone straight for the wound that you just had started to mend. The one you already battled in your own head time and time again—that people might see you as less, as out of place, as someone who didn’t belong at Harry’s side.
“Mom, please,” you said softly, voice tight. You set your glass down and glanced at Harry, mortified.
But Harry’s reaction was instant. Calm, steady, unflinching. His hand moved back to take yours, giving it a gentle squeeze.
“With all due respect,” he said, voice warm but firm, “my parents don’t worry about things like that. And neither do I.” He met your mom’s gaze evenly. “What matters to them is the same thing that matters to me: who she is, and how she makes me better every single day. Nothing else. In fact, they haven’t stopped talking about her since our trip—so much so that she’s already part of our holiday plans.”
Your mom blinked, clearly not expecting such a direct answer.
Harry’s tone softened but didn’t waver, “If I’d ever brought home someone who cared about money, or status, or appearances more than they cared about kindness and heart, that would’ve been their concern. But with her? There’s not a single doubt. Not for me, and certainly not for them.”
The room stilled—so much that you could hear a pin drop.
Your dad watched your mother carefully, even Lila bit her lip, glancing at her—as if trying to gauge whether your mom would push back.
Then Lila, sensing the tension, piped up too brightly. “So, Harry, I keep meaning to ask you about that villa you two stayed at in the Maldives—it looked incredible. Ben and I might take a trip there next summer. Tell me, did you have a private chef or was it all resort dining?”
You didn’t hear her. Not really. Everything was muffled and moving in slow motion as you stared at the bread basket sitting in the middle of the table.
Because in that moment, it all pressed in at once—the walls of this house, every framed picture of perfection that had always hung like a silent judgment, every polished inch of the banister and lemon-polished surface that never left room for flaws. How her words growing up always echoed in your head, but now they screamed louder than Lila’s voice as she attempted damage control.
‘We certainly do.’
That knot you thought you’d finally loosened these past weeks tightened right back up in your chest. Embarrassment burned hot beneath your skin. Shame. And something else too—that old, familiar suffocation, the kind you thought you’d outgrown until you were sitting here—staring at the bread basket—that loss of air came roaring back.
Your mom had moved on to listening to Lila talk, but Harry’s hand held yours, running his thumb over your knuckles, trying to calm that storm he knew was crashing in your mind.
He always knew. The shift in your posture, the slight tremor in your fingers when you set your glass down. He knew.
“I—” Your voice cracked as you cut Lila off, and you pushed back your chair all of a sudden, standing and putting your napkin on the table. “Excuse me for a moment.”
Harry’s head snapped toward you instantly, his expression softening at the sight of your face.
You leaned down, pressing a kiss to his cheek, whispering just for him: “I just need a minute.”
His hand brushed your wrist under the table, squeezing gently in silent support, but he didn’t stop you—he knew you needed space.
You slipped quietly from the dining room, leaving behind the clink of glassware and the faint, unreadable expression on your mother’s face.
Harry’s POV
The silence that followed after you left the table was heavy enough to press against Harry’s chest. He stayed still, his glass resting idle near his now-empty plate, the faint clink of your mom setting down her wineglass the only sound in the room.
He could still hear your footsteps retreating down the hall towards the back of the house. He could feel the shift in your energy before you’d even excused yourself—that quiet collapse inward, the way your shoulders had dropped like the air had been sucked out of you. He knew what it meant. He’d seen it a couple of times at the wedding, around your mom, especially—in the way you braced yourself whenever her words cut just sharp enough to sting.
This time, he wasn’t going to let it sit.
Harry lifted his gaze, calm and steady, letting the silence breathe one more moment before he broke it. “I’d like to say something, if I may.” His voice wasn’t sharp, wasn’t loud—but it carried. The kind of voice people leaned into, because it gave no room to ignore.
Your mom blinked, not expecting him to speak up, and her smile tightened faintly. “Of course.”
He set his napkin down beside his plate, folding it carefully, buying just enough time to organize his thoughts. “I know I’m a guest here. And I know tonight was meant to be about family, about first impressions. But what was just said…” His eyes flicked briefly to your empty chair before returning to your mother, then your father, before landing back on her. “That wasn’t fair to her.”
Your dad’s brow lifted slightly, not expecting Harry to be so blunt, but he stayed quiet.
Lila shifted beside Ben, biting back what looked like an approving smile.
Harry leaned forward, resting his forearms lightly on the table. “If you’re worried about her not being from the same background as me—or about what my parents might think—let me put it simply: they’re not concerned. And neither am I. Because when I look at her, I don’t see a tax bracket. I don’t see 'trust funds' as a box to check off on my ‘future wife’ checklist. I don’t see private jets and luxury clothing as a necessary part of loving a person. I look for someone kind, compassionate, smart, brave, generous, and beautiful inside and out. And with your daughter, she has all of that and more. With her, I see a person who makes me want to be better every single day.”
Your mom opened her mouth to interject, but Harry kept going—not forcefully, just steadily, like he wasn’t going to let the point slip away.
“Before we came tonight, I almost brought something with me to discuss with you all...” He looked at your parents, calculating their body language before he continued.
He looked at Lila for a brief second, and she gave him a small nod of support.
He exhaled softly, looking back at your parents, “A ring.” The words hung in the air, heavy, intentional. He didn’t rush them. “Not because I was planning to propose tonight.” He let out a nervous, somewhat shaky chuckle before continuing, “But because I thought maybe it would mean something. That it would show you that my intentions with her are serious. That I’m not here for a season or until it gets too difficult. To show you that my end game—if she’ll have me—is a marriage. A life. A family with her.”
The silence deepened. He could feel all pairs of eyes on him, weighing his words. He kept his voice calm, even as his chest tightened with the truth of it.
“But I didn’t bring it because I worried it might feel like too much too soon, that you’d think me to be arrogant, reckless, maybe even concerning. But—it’s there. It’s there for her and her only. Waiting. Because my future doesn’t make sense without her in it. And I hope that matters more to you than if me or my family cares where she grew up or what number is on her bank statement.”
He tilted his head a little, calculating his next words, “I wouldn’t love her if I didn’t see value. I see value in ways that matter. I love her because I respect her. I trust her. She’s someone who knows more than me. She challenges me to be a better man… one to deserve her time and energy.”
He laced his hands together in front of him, “I’m not with her for her material assets. Although I have enough of those for the both of us."
There was a brief pause before he continued, "I’m with her because she’s more valuable to me than anything or anyone will ever know—so much so that I can’t put it into words.”
Your mom’s lips pressed together, her gaze sharper now—but not in the cutting way from before. In a searching way. Like she was actually listening, absorbing it all.
Harry let out a slow breath, then leaned back just slightly, softening his tone even more than it was. “And if you’re wondering why her, why I’d make those kinds of promises so soon? It’s because of who she is when no one’s looking."
He smiled to himself, "I’ve seen her dive into a pool without a second thought to pull my niece from danger. I’ve watched her soothe my sister’s protective nerves with a kindness most people don’t come close to. She can make a kitchen feel like home just by sitting on the counter—laughing when I spill icing sugar on her. She remembers the little things that most people forget or don't care to remember—like the way I take my coffee or the way I tap my pen when I’m stuck in thought.”
He looked down at his thumbs as they were twirling together as he spoke, “She’s the only person who can make me forget the rest of the world exists with a single look.”
Your dad smiled and let out a small hum of approval and agreement.
He smiled faintly, his eyes softening even more as he looked back up at your family. “That’s why. Because she’s extraordinary. And because she makes me feel like I could be, too.”
The table stayed quiet, but this time the silence wasn’t tense. It was full—like the words were settling in.
Finally, Ben gave a short nod, his voice low. “Hard to argue with that.”
Harry glanced at him briefly, grateful, then let his gaze return to your parents. “I know you love her. That’s obvious. But she doesn’t deserve to second-guess herself every time she walks into this house if that’s how you’ll continue thinking of our relationship.”
Your mother looked at her glass, guilt starting to seep in now.
Harry caught her eyes and offered a soft, warm smile, “So I’ll say this: you don’t have to worry about her being enough for me. She already is. More than enough."
His eyes got slightly watery, "If I'm being honest? I'm concerned I'm not enough for her."
He looked down for a moment, gathering himself before looking back up, "But I will spend the rest of my life striving to be. And my hope is that one day, you’ll see her the way I do. Because if you did…” His voice softened into something almost reverent. “You’d never let another doubt about her worth touch her again.”
Your dad cleared his throat, shifting in his chair. His expression wasn’t unfriendly—if anything, it looked like he was proud of Harry for standing up for you. He saw that his little girl wasn’t with someone who saw her as something small—instead, Harry saw you as his whole world.
Lila reached and squeezed Harry’s wrist on the table, a small sign of support.
Your mom sat straighter, her mouth curved in something that wasn’t quite a smile, but wasn’t disapproval either. She looked unsettled, yes, but she wasn’t bristling.
That was enough for now.
Harry’s chest tightened again as his eyes flicked back to your chair, empty and waiting. He pushed back from the table slowly, the scrape of his chair loud in the quiet room. “If you’ll excuse me,” he said gently, glancing at your parents. “I should go check on her.”
Your father gave the faintest nod, and your mother offered a small smile. Ben muttered something about giving you both a minute to the rest of the table.
But Harry was already on his feet, already moving—following the only person who mattered more than winning this room.
Reader’s POV
The brisk air bit at your cheeks as you pushed through the back door and slipped quietly across the yard. The evening had fallen into that particular hush you always associated with autumn—one where the wind seemed to move more softly, carrying the smell of damp leaves and woodsmoke.
And there it was. The tree that had offered you comfort in past times, like this one.
The bench your father built years ago curved around the thick roots, its wood worn smooth from summers spent hiding out here with paperbacks and iced tea.
You curled onto it now, tucking your knees to your chest against the chill, trying to make yourself small but also stay warm.
The house still buzzed faintly behind you—the faint sound of the music your mom had on in the kitchen, the muffled sound of voices—but out here, it was just the tree, the leaves, and the steady drum of your heartbeat trying to slow.
Your chest still ached from the words that had sent you running.
We certainly do.
It didn’t matter that Harry had defended you, or that your father’s eyes had softened in quiet pride. In that moment, all you’d felt was small. The same small you’d been at sixteen, sitting right here after one of your mom’s critiques on your prom dress, trying to stare hard enough at the bark until the tears stopped burning.
You weren’t sure how long you sat there before footsteps crunched over the leaves. You didn’t look up—you already knew the rhythm of his stride.
“Have the leaves whispered to you yet, my love?”
His voice was low, warm, and deliberately gentle. A small crack of light through the heaviness pressing down on you.
A small, sad chuckle left your throat. “Yeah,” you muttered, eyes still fixed on the ground. “Whispering kinder things than my own mother, seems like.”
The bench shifted as Harry sat down beside you. Without a word, he pulled you into his arms, tucking you against his chest, his coat falling around your shoulders like another layer of warmth. His chin rested in your hair, his hand slow on your back, waiting until you wanted to speak.
For a while, you didn’t. You just listened to the faint rustle of leaves above and the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear.
“This bench has seen some things,” you finally murmured with a wry grin, nudging him with your knee. “Mostly me trying to read dramatic fantasy novels, but still…”
Harry leaned back beside you, his smile tugging softly at the edges as he teased, “Ah, so this is where the emotionally repressed escapism began. Makes sense...”
You gasped, feigning offense. “Excuse me, I’ll have you know this bench is sacred. Not to be disrespected by a man who cried at the ending of Pride and Prejudice.”
He clutched his chest dramatically. “You said you wouldn’t say anything! Plus—Mr. Darcy and that confession?” He tilted toward you, quoting in the most exaggerated British accent he could manage, “You have bewitched me, body and soul. And I love… I love… I love you.”
You tried to smother your laugh against his shoulder but failed, the giggle escaping anyway. He chuckled too, kissing the crown of your head before leaning back, both of you watching the leaves stir above in the wind as the sun continued to go down.
“I used to come out here after fights with my mom,” you admitted quietly after a moment. “She’d pick at me, and I’d pretend I had something important to do out here. Sometimes I really would be reading. Sometimes I’d just… sit and stare at the bark until it all stopped spinning.”
Harry didn’t speak. He just looped his arm tighter around you, grounding you.
“There was this one night, though,” you continued, smiling faintly. “I was maybe fourteen? I was so done with it all—her nagging, the lectures. I decided I was gonna run away. Snuck out the back, made it over the flower beds… but my pants got caught on the old fence post, and I ended up dangling like a kite caught in a tree.”
Harry snorted. “You did not?”
“Oh, I did,” you laughed. “My dad had to come outside and untangle me after Grizzly started barking so loud it woke the neighbors. Didn’t even get mad. Just said, ‘Next time, maybe go ‘round to the gate if you’re going to run away. You know, make it out of the yard before I catch you.’”
He tilted his head back in a laugh, eyes crinkling. “God, that sounds like something my dad would’ve said. Except when I tried to sneak out, it was to go kiss this girl behind the tennis courts in tenth grade—but it was so dark, I walked directly into a parked car’s side mirror. Gave myself a black eye.”
You broke into another laugh, nudging his side. “Wait—you what?!”
He nodded solemnly. “Walked face-first into my dad’s Rolls-Royce. I think I told my parents that Simon and I wrestled a little too roughly. I don’t think they believed me.”
You laughed until your sides ached, the heaviness in your chest easing a little more. For a moment, you let yourself lean into that—into him—until the laughter softened into quiet again.
“I hated how small I felt back there,” you admitted finally, your voice low. “It doesn’t matter how old I get, she still makes me feel like I’m still fourteen and never quite enough.”
Harry’s arms tightened around you. “Hey.” He angled down until his forehead touched yours. “Look at me.”
You did, blinking back the sting in your eyes.
“They know exactly where I stand,” he said softly, steady as stone. “That I’m not here for a season. That I’m not going anywhere. They needed to hear it, and I needed to say it.”
Your throat worked, emotion rising too fast to swallow. “You did?”
“I did.” His thumb brushed your cheekbone. “I told them they don’t have to worry about you being enough for me. You already are. More than enough. And I’ll keep saying it—here, there, anywhere—even until you believe it, most importantly, when you’re in that house.”
The tears slipped before you could stop them, warm against the chill of the night air. You buried your face into his chest, letting him hold you while the ache in your chest eased completely.
“Thank you,” you whispered, muffled against his shirt.
“Always, mi amor,” he murmured into your hair. “Always.”
The two of you sat like that for a long while—his coat wrapped around you, the tree’s roots steady beneath your feet, the leaves above whispering in the night. For the first time all evening, you felt like you could breathe.
The quiet between you and Harry had just begun to settle into something warm and safe when the back door creaked open again and Grizzly’s bark echoed out into the yard as he ran down the steps towards you both. You both sat up and turned, and there was your dad, framed in the porch light, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket. His breath fogged faintly in the chill.
He gave you a small smile as he walked towards you both. “Lila’s asking for you,” he said. “She could use a hand finishing dessert.”
You hesitated, glancing toward Harry, reluctant to untangle yourself from the cocoon of his coat and arms. “Oh—okay. We’ll come in.”
But then your dad’s eyes flicked to Harry, his tone still even but carrying a weight you didn’t miss. “Actually, Bug—do you mind if I steal Harry for a moment?”
Your heart skipped. You straightened slowly, looking between them. “Why? Is everything—”
“Nothing to worry about,” your dad said gently, his expression unreadable but calm. “Just a man-to-man chat. Won’t keep him long. I promise.”
You turned immediately to Harry, searching his face for any sign of unease. But he just gave you that steady, quiet smile—the one he always saved for when you needed grounding. His hand squeezed yours gently, letting you know it was going to be ok.
“I’ll be right behind you, mi amor,” he murmured, leaning in so only you could hear. “Promise.”
Reluctantly, you nodded and then leaned in to kiss him softly, lingering for just a beat before pulling back. You stood and turned to your dad, stretching up to press a kiss to his cheek, too. “Don’t be too hard on him, okay?” you lightly teased, your voice was softer than you meant it to be.
Your dad’s mouth curved faintly. “Wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart.”
Still, your stomach fluttered uneasily as you gave Harry one last look and slipped back toward the house, the warm kitchen light spilling out as you pushed the back door open and called Grizzly to follow you back inside.
The moment it clicked shut behind you, the yard fell quiet again. Just the rustle of leaves, the faint hum of the city in the distance, and the weight of two men now alone beneath the old oak tree.
Harry’s POV
Harry straightened subtly as your father stepped closer, though he kept his posture relaxed—shoulders easy, hands resting on his knees where he sat on the bench.
Your dad studied him for a long moment, the kind of look that was neither hostile nor overly friendly, but measured. He also didn’t sit right away—which Harry assumed might have been an intimidation tactic—especially after what had happened before he came out.
Instead, he stood a few paces off, his eyes tracing the familiar outline of the yard like a man walking through memories. His gaze caught on the far corner where the old fence stood, half hidden by overgrown ivy now. He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head.
“She’ll kill me for telling you this,” he began, voice wry, “but when she was about fourteen, she and her mom got into a scuffle. Stubborn as a mule, she decided she was gonna run away. Two in the morning, middle of October, sneaks out through the back flowerbeds… only to get herself caught on that fence post right there.” He pointed before putting his hand back in his pocket. “Her dress tore clean through. I came out to find her dangling like laundry on the line after Grizzly woke half the neighborhood.”
Walter laughed again at the memory, and Harry felt his mouth twitch, a chuckle rising to meet it. He kept his eyes wide, his grin quiet, playing his part.
“Did she now?” Harry said lightly.
Your dad nodded, still smiling. “Had to cut her free myself. Told her next time she tried it, she ought to use the gate, you know, not get caught, like a proper fugitive.”
Harry bit the inside of his cheek to keep from admitting he already knew the story. As it sat between them like a small secret, a silent trust that he wouldn’t betray.
The laughter ebbed, and Walter finally lowered himself onto the bench beside him. The quiet stretched a few beats, the rustle of leaves overhead the only sound. Then your dad’s expression softened, and he exhaled slowly.
“Listen… I need to apologize for her mother’s behavior tonight.” His voice was lower now, heavier with honesty. “I don’t know why she does it. She’s always been so damn hard on her. Lila, too, but… mostly her. And it’s not like she ever made it hard for us—never gave us trouble, never needed the extra reminders. She just… got the brunt of it from Liz.”
Harry shifted, his jaw tightening at the echo of your mother’s words at the table. He kept his tone even, respectful, but firm. “I appreciate you saying that. But as long as I’m around, I can’t let that continue. I hope you can understand.”
Walter’s mouth curved into a small smile, his eyes glinting faintly in the low light. Then, to Harry’s surprise, he chuckled. “Good. Been waiting for a man to come into her life who doesn’t jump on the bandwagon with her mom.”
He put his hand on Harry’s shoulder and gently shook him, “You proved everything I needed to know tonight when you stood up for her the way you did.”
Harry blinked, caught off guard by the ease of the compliment.
Your dad leaned back against the bench, putting his hand back in his pocket, amusement tugging at his features. “Truth be told, I don’t think her mother will be saying much again anytime soon. She hates being told off.” He then let a chuckle bubble up, “You managed in five minutes to do what I’ve been trying to do for the last thirty years.”
Harry couldn’t help but laugh at that, the sound easing some of the tension in his shoulders. “Suppose I should take that as an honor?”
“You should,” Walter said, still grinning.
The humor softened again into a quiet hum, and then your dad turned more directly toward Harry. His expression shifted, not unkind, but sharper—searching. “Tell me something, son. Do you honestly have a ring? Do you truthfully intend to propose soon?”
Harry stilled for a beat. His instinct was to hedge, but there was no use in pretending—not here, not with the man who’d raised her. So he nodded.
“I do,” he said steadily. “It’s an heirloom. I’ve had it tucked away for a while now. I plan to ask her within the next couple of months. But before I do, I’ll come to you properly. I’ll ask for your blessing.”
What he didn’t expect was your dad’s response.
“Don’t bother askin’, son,” he said easily, with a faint smile. “You’ve got my blessing—whether you ask tomorrow or in two years.”
Harry turned to him, startled. “You mean that?”
Walter nodded without hesitation. “I’ve known you in passing for a while now, Harry. And I know Ben—he loves you like a brother. If his opinion and Lila’s are any fair measure of your character… and if my daughter loves you enough to bring you home?” He paused, his voice steady but full. “Then you’re more than worthy of her hand.”
The words landed heavier than Harry expected. His throat tightened, gratitude rising like a weight he hadn’t realized he’d been carrying until it eased.
Walter extended his hand. “So don’t wait around worrying about my permission. You’ve got it. What matters is the way you love her.”
Harry swallowed hard, then reached out, gripping his hand firmly. “Thank you, sir,” he said, voice quiet but raw with sincerity. “That means more than I can say.”
Your dad gave his hand a steady squeeze before letting go, “Well, I don’t know about you, but it’s colder than a witch's tit out here. How about we head in for some of Lila’s pie, hmm?”
Harry chuckled at the saying, then smiled softly and nodded, standing and walking with your dad back inside.
As they walked, your dad told him another embarrassing story about your childhood—which had their laughs echoing throughout the backyard.
Reader’s POV
The warmth of the kitchen wrapped around you the moment you stepped inside, a stark contrast to the cool air outside.
Lila was already at the counter, sleeves rolled up, smoothing a glossy layer of cream cheese frosting over the cinnamon roll cheesecake she’d baked. The smell of cinnamon, sugar, and vanilla filled the room, sweet enough to make your shoulders drop a little as you reached for an apron on the back of the pantry door.
“There you are,” Lila said, glancing up with a small smile. “Thought Dad may have kidnapped you, too.”
You tied the apron at your waist and slipped up beside her. “He wanted a word with Harry. I’ve been told I’m supposed to be your helper.”
“Yes, help is needed indeed,” She slid the bowl toward you with a spoon. “Drizzle the glaze over the top—nice and slow. Make it all pretty like your pastry chef does to that coffee cake at your hotel.”
You smirked, obliging. The two of you worked in easy rhythm for a few moments, the clatter of spoons and the faint hiss of the kettle filling the silence, until Lila bumped your hip with hers.
“So…” she drawled, her voice dipped in curiosity. “Harry...”
You looked up, trying to play dumb. “What about him?”
She arched an eyebrow. “Don’t play innocent with me. I think Mom and Dad—and literally everyone else—got the memo tonight. That man? He’s serious about you!”
A warmth spread in your chest, even as your face flushed. “Mhmm, I was told he… said things after I walked out.”
“Oh, he didn’t just say things,” Lila said, smirking as she grabbed some plates from the cupboard. “He stood up to Mom’s… you know… Mom-ing… practically gave a TED Talk about how you’re the love of his life. God, I swear, if Dad hadn’t been there, I would’ve stood up and applauded.”
Your laugh broke out before you could stop it, soft but tinged with disbelief. “He did not give a TED Talk, Lila...”
“He did!” she insisted. “Power stance and everything! Even did the whole business ‘let’s make a deal’ hands thing people like him and Ben do!” She mimicked how he laced his hands in front of him, giggling.
You chuckled and hummed to yourself, happy to know he made quite the impression.
She softened as she continued, “But seriously, he was amazing. He made it very clear to everyone in that room that he’s here to stay and how much he loves you. Like Ben has work to do in terms of professing his love for me on that level.”
You bit your lip, drizzling the last of the glaze over the cheesecake. “What about Mom? What was she thinking after…?”
Lila gave you a look. “Wouldn’t you rather hear that from her directly?”
You frowned, confused, until you caught movement by the doorway. Your mom stood there, half-hidden, her hands twisting in the hem of her cardigan.
“Sorry,” she said quietly. “I was… listening a little.”
Lila and you exchanged a glance, neither of you saying anything until your sister sighed and gestured to a chair at the island. “Well, come on, then, if you’re just going to eavesdrop! Join the gossip circle since you’re the main subject of it now.”
Your mom gave a sheepish smile and stepped into the kitchen. “I just… I wanted to say I’m sorry, Bug.” Her voice was softer than you’d expected, almost fragile. “I know I’ve been hard on you. Too hard. It isn’t because you deserve it. It’s because I… I just worry.”
You blinked, your hands stilling on the counter as you listened.
“I’ve seen you hurt so many times,” she continued, her eyes wet but steady. “Every time, it’s like I feel it with you. And seeing you with him—so happy, so alive and in love—I just… the thought of watching that happiness break would be unbearable.”
The lump in your throat rose fast, surprising you. Before you could respond, Lila cut in, her tone firm but not unkind. “But you can’t assume Harry’s going to hurt her just because everyone else has, Mom. That isn’t fair. Not to him. And definitely not to her, right?”
Your mom nodded quickly. “You’re right. You’re both right.” She turned her attention back to you. “So with that, I need to ask you something.” Her voice shook a little. “Are you happy? Does he make you as happy as you look?”
Tears stung your eyes, but they weren’t heavy or sharp this time—they were warm. Real. You let out a shaky laugh and pressed your palms to your cheeks, feeling the heat of them.
“Happy doesn’t even cover it, Mom…” you admitted. “I don’t know if I’ve ever felt this full. He’s… he’s everything. He makes me feel safe, and seen, and loved in a way I didn’t think I could ever be.”
Your voice cracked, and suddenly your mom was across the kitchen, pulling you into her arms. The familiar smell of her perfume wrapped around you as you buried your face into her shoulder, the tears spilling hot and fast.
“I just want the best for you,” she whispered into your hair. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
She rubbed your back soothingly, “And I’m sorry I’ve been so harsh. I’ll try to do better. I want to know him more. I want you both to come around more. And if I keep pushing and criticizing—I’ll drive you both away. And I’d regret that more than anything.”
You pulled back enough to meet her eyes, your smile watery but real. “Thank you.”
Lila sniffed loudly, pretending to focus on her cheesecake slices while you and your mom shared another squeeze.
Then, as if the mood had gotten too heavy for her own liking, your mom brightened suddenly. “I’m going to go get the baby books!” she said, her eyes lighting up. “I want to show him pictures of you when you were little.”
“Books? As in more than one? Mom, please—” you groaned, half-laughing, half-dying inside.
But before you could protest further, the back door opened. The cool draft swept in, followed by your dad and Harry stepping through, still talking quietly between themselves.
Harry glanced up just in time to hear the tail end of your mom’s declaration.
“Did someone say baby books?” he grinned, his eyes immediately finding yours.
The room erupted—Lila snorted, your dad chuckled, and your mom beamed. You, however, dropped your face into your hands with a groan, already plotting revenge.
Harry’s grin lingered as he crossed the kitchen, the faint smell of cinnamon and sugar hitting him before anything else. He came up behind you without hesitation, sliding his arms snugly around your waist and pulling you back against him.
You startled slightly but melted almost instantly, putting a hand on his for a moment, his warmth familiar and steady. He pressed a kiss to your cheek, murmuring against your skin. “What smells so delicious in here?”
“Cinnamon roll cheesecake that Lila baked,” you said, lifting the spoon you’d been using to drizzle the glaze. “Want a taste?”
He leaned down obediently, lips parting as you offered him a sample from the spoon. His eyes lit with delight as he hummed, savoring the sweetness.
Then, before you could pull back, he turned your chin gently and caught your lips in a quick, soft kiss. The kitchen faded for a second, his breath warm against yours as he lingered close enough that his words brushed your lips.
“Mmm,” he murmured, voice low and meant only for you. “Almost as sweet as you.”
Your entire face went scarlet.
Behind you, Lila groaned loudly, tossing a dishtowel onto the counter. “Oh, God. I heard that! Get a room, you two!”
You broke into an embarrassed laugh, swatting lightly at Harry’s chest, while he just chuckled, unbothered, and stole another quick kiss to your lips then to your temple.
The kitchen filled with warmth and laughter, the heaviness of the evening softened by sugar, apologies, and the steady presence of the man you loved with every part of yourself holding you close.
Before you could fully recover, your mom reappeared in the doorway, arms stacked high with three massive scrapbooks. She beamed, her eyes twinkling. “Who wants to see baby pictures?”
You groaned seeing how thick they were. “Mom, no—”
But Harry only laughed, pressing one more kiss to your cheek before whispering in your ear, “You’ll forgive me, right?” Then, straightening, he raised his hand like a volunteer in class and walked right over to her as she set them down on the table.
“Is this it?” he asked eagerly, eyes bright.
Your dad, who had just stepped further into the kitchen, chuckled and clapped a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Son, that’s just the start. There’s about three bins worth upstairs.”
Harry’s grin widened as he looked back at you.
You couldn’t help but smile at him.
This was all you wanted, someone to be this in love with every part of you, and here he was, right in the middle of your childhood kitchen, eagerly wanting to see your baby pictures.
And just like that, the night dissolved into laughter, warmth, and the promise of a new kind of family.
Chapter 13
Summary:
The holiday season brings new traditions together and with family, holiday cheer (and maybe a little bit of magic), and the promise of a bright and loving future together.
Notes:
chapter warnings: fluff, established relationship, Harry speaks Spanish (translations will be there), soft!harry, flirting, SMUT (18+ MDNI), tooth-rotting love, mentions of drinking, if I missed anything, lmk!!
word count: 13.1k
a/n: thank you so much for all the love you've given this series. this is the last chapter - however, i do see us revisiting these two in the future - so do not fret !! thank you again for all the love and support - enjoy 🤍
Chapter Text
December 18th
The Castillo townhouse was impossible to miss. On a block of dignified brownstones, theirs was the one that looked like it had swallowed Christmas whole and decided to outshine the rest of Manhattan while it was at it.
Golden lights cascaded down from the rooftop to the stoop, the windows glowed with candles and poinsettias—a twelve-foot fir tree was visible from the street, glittering in red and gold.
You couldn’t help but laugh as Harry ushered you inside, his hand warm at your back. “This is… insane! I’ve never seen a tree that big! Is it real or—”
“Oh, it’s real, has been every year,” Harry said simply, but his grin betrayed his pride.
Inside, the air was thick with warmth and the smell of roasted pork, cinnamon, and cloves. The foyer alone looked like a department store display—garlands draped over the bannisters, twinkling lights adding a warm ambiance, stockings lined up in perfect order on the staircase (embroidered with names, no less), nativities, family photos, ceramic figures, vintage snowglobes scattered on tables and shelves, gifts already spilling out from beneath the enormous tree that touched the high ceiling of the living room.
“¡Mira quién llegó!” (Look who’s here) Lucia excitedly called out as she swept in from the kitchen, her dark hair pinned elegantly back, a holiday apron tied over her dress. She kissed your cheeks warmly before pulling you into a hug. “Mi amor, Merry Christmas. Come, come—there’s so much food, y veo que mi niño no te ha estado alimentando lo suficiente, ¡estás demasiado delgada!” (and I can see my boy hasn't been feeding you enough, you're too thin!)
“Mamá,” Harry groaned good-naturedly, though his eyes sparkled as he watched you being pulled into the chaos of a Christmas with the Castillo family.
It was chaos, but it was nothing short of joyful.
Simon and Liv’s kids, Lindee and Savannah, came barreling down the stairs, shrieking with excitement as they leapt into Harry’s arms. Little Harry toddled after them, clutching a new stuffed bear in one hand, going down the stairs one at a time, barely able to hold onto the rail with how short he was. Anne appeared next from the living room, balancing Esmerelda on her hip while Spencer trailed behind with Anthony on his back, giggling.
You both were being passed from one greeting to the next, everyone speaking over one another in a melodic mix of Spanish and English.
Eventually, you got to Rafael, who gave you a warm hug that smelled faintly of cigars and his cologne—when he turned to Harry, he clasped his eldest’s shoulder with pride before hugging him.
“She fits right in,” Rafael said, not bothering to lower his voice. “¡Date prisa y ponle un anillo en el dedo!” (Hurry up and put a ring on her finger!)
Harry only smiled, squeezing your hand as you looked at him for a translation.
He kissed your cheek, “He said you fit right in and he’s happy you’re here.”
Lucia ticked her tongue and waved a dishcloth between the two of you before looping your arm with hers, “Come with me, hermosa. I have much to show you!” before she dragged you to the kitchen—Harry following close behind.
The kitchen felt like another world entirely, humming with energy and alive with holiday warmth. Steam rose from pots on the stove, the warm spice of cinnamon and cloves blending with the rich aroma of slow-roasting pernil. Rafael had declared that only “those with patience” could help roll hallacas properly, and you’d been ushered into the kitchen to test yours.
“Ven, mi amor,” Elena said, sliding a stack of glossy banana leaves toward you. “You will help us. It’s good luck when someone new learns at Christmas, si?”
“I should warn you,” you said nervously, tying the borrowed apron tighter around your waist, “I’m not known for my burrito wrapping skills if this is anything like that...” You said as you watched Liv wrap hers up similarly to one.
“Even better,” Anne teased, though her tone was surprisingly gentle, not her usual sharp-edged banter. She sat across from you, deftly smoothing a leaf and spooning filling into the center. “That means we get to laugh at you.”
You chuckled, relieved to find humor in her voice. “I’ll try to give you material.”
Harry leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching like he had all the time in the world. You caught his smirk and wrinkled your nose at him. “You’ve got patience, handsome… get in here!”
“Mmm, no, not in this family,” Harry said, smiling, pushing off the frame. He slipped up behind you instead, hand landing on your waist, voice warm at your ear. “Besides, I like watching you like this.” He kissed your cheek, then your shoulder, as he watched over your shoulder as you attempted your first fold, trying to copy Liv’s movements.
Lucia flicked him with a kitchen towel on the waist playfully. “Out. ¡Los rompes cada vez que lo intentas con tus grandes manos!” (You break these each time you try with your big hands!)
Harry raised his hands in mock surrender, “Ay! Mama! Watch where you’re putin’ that! ¿Quieres más nietos, verdad?” (You want more grandkids, right?) he said as his grin lingered on you before he finally left.
You chuckled and watched him disappear out of the kitchen, only to find that Anne had moved over to stand beside you, showing you the steps patiently: spread the masa, add the meat, fold the leaf. When you botched the first attempt and the filling leaked out the side, she giggled with you.
“Así no, cariño,” Lucia said, shaking her head with a smile, stepping in to stand by you on the other side. “Here. Fold like this—see?” She demonstrated with quick, practiced hands. “Now you say it. Doblar.” (Fold)
“Do… blar?” you repeated carefully.
“Muy bien,” she said brightly, pinching your cheek affectionately. “Now tuck. Meter.”
“Meter.” You repeated without a hitch.
The next attempt went smoother. You managed to fold and tie the hallaca without it bursting apart. When you held it up, triumphant, Lucia clapped her hands together. “¡Perfecto! See? You are a natural.”
Your cheeks warmed. “Well, I had good teachers.”
“You have patience,” Lucia corrected, placing a hand over yours. Her eyes softened. “You’re practically a Castillo.” She shrugged confidently, smiling as she went to fold another, “We’re naturals at this.”
You smiled, your heart swelling at that as you looked back down at your hands to try at another one.
Later, while trays of hallacas steamed, you found yourself at the stove helping Liv stir a pot of natilla. She handed you the spoon with a grin. “The goal is to keep stirring or it will burn. And mamá will never forgive us if it burns.”
As you stirred, Lucia taught you words for the ingredients after you expressed an interest in learning the language—canela for cinnamon, leche for milk, azúcar for sugar. You repeated them back, tongue stumbling a little at first, until even Anne cracked a smile at your genuine efforts to be a part of her brother’s world.
“You’re learning fast,” Liv said, bumping your hip playfully. “Better than Spencer, anyway.” She said a little louder so he could hear.
From the table, Spencer groaned as he was folding napkins in a fancy fold. “Hey. I know at least ten words.”
“Yeah,” Anne said dryly. “All of them swear words.”
Laughter rippled through the kitchen, and you couldn’t stop smiling. Somewhere deep down, a knot you hadn’t realized you’d been carrying—the fear of not belonging in his world—it continued to loosen now that you were around them all again.
Harry reappeared in the doorway just then, leaning casually against the frame, and for a moment, he didn’t say a word. His gaze swept over you in one of his mother’s aprons, cheeks flushed from the stove, Spanish phrases spilling awkwardly but earnestly from your mouth. The look in his eyes always made your chest warm. He looked as if he’d just realized something he couldn’t quite say aloud.
When you caught him staring, you lifted your brows, smiling brightly. “What?”
His smile curved slow and soft. “Nothing. Just enjoying the view, mi vida.”
Later, the table groaned under platters of pernil, tamales, arroz con pollo, sweet plantains, and Lucia’s famous flan. Wine flowed, stories overlapped, and the kids darted in and out between courses, sneaking cookies when they thought no one was looking.
At one point, Rafael tapped his glass, quieting the table. “A toast,” he said in his rich voice, looking around at his family. “To Christmas. To love. And to the ones we hold close.” His gaze lingered on you before it shifted back to Harry. “Bienvenidos, querida. You are part of us now.”
The words hit deeper than you expected, and you blinked quickly, your throat tight. Harry’s hand found yours under the table and squeezed gently, leaning over to kiss your temple.
Later, after dessert and far too many glasses of wine, Simon cornered you with a mischievous grin as you all sat in the living room. “So,” he said, “what are some of your Christmas traditions, Y/N?”
You blinked. “Mine?”
“Sí,” Lucia chimed in, carrying another tray of turrón to the coffee table. “Cuéntanos.” (Tell us.)
You thought for a moment, a little flustered with all eyes on you. “Well… nothing this extravagant. We usually did hot chocolate, sometimes caroling…” Then you lit up, remembering one specific detail, “And then every Christmas morning, we had cinnamon rolls while opening presents. That was our little tradition that we’ve done, I think… well, ever since I can honestly remember...”
“Cinnamon rolls?” Lindee perked up from her coloring book, looking at Simon. “Can we do that too, Dad?”
Simon laughed, glancing at you. “Look at that, now you’ve started a revolution.”
You blushed, but the warm laughter around the room soothed you. Harry leaned close, murmuring just for you: “You fit in so perfectly here, my love.” Then kissed your cheek, leaving you smiling into his shoulder as you leaned your head on it, sinking deeper into the cushions.
After a few gifts were opened and some of the kids were finally tucked upstairs—the adults settled by the fire with brandy. Simon effortlessly and sneakily tugged Harry toward their father’s study.
Harry raised a brow, confused. “¿Qué pasa?”
Simon closed the door behind them, his grin sly. “Don’t play dumb. Tell me everything! You’ve got everything ready for the big question, right?”
Harry chuckled, shaking his head. “You and your need to know all the details. You know you’re worse than your wife about gossiping?”
Simon arched a brow, switching back to English, ignoring Harry’s jab. “So? Do you?”
Harry let the grin spread slow and certain. “Yeah. Everything’s ready. I’ve got the reservation booked, made sure Sophia cleared her schedule for her, had the ring cleaned last week… It’s all set. Just waiting for the moment, you know?”
Simon whistled low, leaning against the desk. “Dios mío. You’re really going to do it.”
Harry’s eyes softened, his voice low. “She’s it, Si. She’s been it from the start.”
Simon studied him for a long moment, then nodded, his teasing gone, replaced with quiet sincerity. “Good. You deserve it. And she deserves you.” He smirked again, though. “Just don’t turn it into a Shakespeare soliloquy, yeah? Keep it short n’ sweet… oh, and add some tears! They can’t say no to tears!”
Harry rolled his eyes, but his grin was unshakable.
When they quietly returned to the living room, you were curled up on the rug, Lindee asleep against your side while Savannah played with your hair. The firelight painted your face golden, and you glanced up just then, catching him watching. Your smile softened into something private, and Harry knew, with a certainty that settled deep in his bones, that Simon was right.
He couldn’t wait much longer.
Christmas Eve
The bedroom glowed golden from lamplight, the faint sounds of the city carrying through the windows. You stood at the mirror, fastening the last clasp of your earrings, when the bedroom door creaked open.
Harry’s voice carried, lazy and amused. “Are you almost ready, my love? We’ll be—”
He stopped dead in the doorway.
Your reflection caught his eyes before you even turned.
The floor-length, deep green dress shimmered under the light, hugging your frame before spilling in a sweep of satin. You smoothed a nervous hand over your hip, suddenly shy under the weight of his gaze.
“Well?” you asked, tilting your head. “Do I look—”
Harry crossed the room in three strides, cutting you off with his hands on your waist. His mouth brushed yours once in a soft but hungry kiss, like he couldn’t quite believe you were his.
“My god,” he muttered against your lips, voice low and reverent. “You look ravishing...”
You laughed, shoving lightly at his chest as he leaned back in for your lips. “Harry, stop—we’ll be late.”
“Worth it.” He leaned back just far enough to admire you again, his thumb brushing your cheek. His grin was boyish, eyes shining. “You’re the most beautiful woman in New York tonight. Everyone else might as well go home.”
You blushed and leaned up to kiss his cheek, “Give me two more minutes…” then you turned back around to the mirror to finish up on the final touches as he sat on the edge of the bed. You could see in the reflection him watching you adoringly and with so much love in his eyes—you couldn’t help the smile you tried to hide.
The ballroom was a jewel box of light and sound. Crystal chandeliers glittered overhead, wreaths and garlands gleamed in gold and silver—an enormous tree dominated the corner of the room, dripping with glass ornaments. Waiters weaved through the crowd with champagne flutes, while a jazz band played festive standards near the stage.
Harry’s hand stayed firmly at your back as he led you in, pride radiating off him in waves. Colleagues stopped to greet him immediately—partners, associates, clients—and every time he introduced you, he did it with a glow in his eyes, like he couldn’t wait for them to know who you were if they didn’t from the last party.
“This is her,” he said more than once, warmth in his tone. “My girl.”
Peter found you not long after, weaving through the crowd with a delighted gasp and squeal. “You made it!” He hugged you tight, then pulled back to grin at Harry. “She looks better than you, boss. Just saying.”
Harry rolled his eyes, but you could see the smug pride under the act.
For the first hour of your evening, you floated between conversations—partners asking about your work, associates gushing about how they work with Harry, Peter slipping you quips under his breath that made you laugh into your champagne if he didn’t like the person. To your surprise, you didn’t feel out of place at all like last time. The people here were warm, curious, and when you glanced at Harry, you saw it: the quiet satisfaction of a man who had spent years in this glittering, competitive world but finally had someone by his side who made it worthwhile.
Harry tugged you close more than once, lips brushing your temple as he whispered something only for you. “Doing all right, mi amor?” “Need a drink?” “You let me know if any of this is too much.” “You’re stealing the room. I’m the luckiest man.”
You teased him for being dramatic for that last one—but your heart swelled anyway.
Later in the night, you’d just laughed at something Harry whispered in your ear as you two watched an associate of his attempt to ask another to dance when the familiar chill crept in—an unfortunate, unfamiliar voice.
“Well, well, Castillo,” Alex Dorsey drawled, cutting through the hum of music and chatter like a knife. “Didn’t realize you were still in the habit of… accessorizing your arm.”
Your stomach turned at that arrogant twat you thought you’d gotten rid of for good the last time your paths crossed.
Harry’s hand at your waist stiffened instantly, his entire frame going taut beside you.
Alex’s smirk widened, eyes running over you with a slow, arrogant scan. “I mean, don’t get me wrong—she’s stunning. But come on. A girl like this, really? With you?” He took a sip of his drink and then looked around before leaning in a little closer like he was trying to be secretive, “Or is this more of a… paid arrangement?” He swirled his drink, smug before leaning back and shrugging as he went to sip his drink. “Would explain a lot.”
The words curdled the warmth in your chest, and you froze at the assumption—but Harry was already moving before you could realize.
“Watch your mouth, tu pedazo de mierda.” (You piece of shit) he said, low, dangerous. Not the polished Castillo charm he wielded so easily—no, this was something darker. Older. His jaw flexed, shoulders rigid, eyes sharp with fury. “Say something like that about her again and I swear to God I will—”
“Harry,” you said quickly, your hand pressing hard to his chest. You felt the iron tension in his body, like he was one breath away from tearing Dorsey apart right there in the ballroom.
He didn’t look at you—his gaze was locked on Alex, lethal, unblinking.
You rose on your toes, forcing his eyes down to yours. “Hey, look at me. He’s not worth it.”
For a beat, you thought he might ignore you. Then, finally, his gaze broke, drifting to yours.
“Breathe,” you whispered, stroking the edge of his tie under your thumb and then rubbing your hand on his chest. “You don’t need to prove anything.”
His chest rose and fell, hard and uneven, but his hand came up to cup your cheek, grounding himself in you. His thumb brushed across your skin like he needed to anchor himself.
Satisfied he wasn’t about to explode, you turned your attention back to Alex, standing in front of Harry. Your voice was calm, almost sweet, but razor-edged.
“You know, Dursley,” you said, tilting your head.
“It’s Dorsey.” He corrected, smirking.
“It’s a shame that you think I care enough to remember.”
His smirk faltered, but you picked yours up, taking a step towards him, “You might want to be careful with those kinds of assumptions. Because if you keep talking about me like that, in that context, people might start to wonder…” You let the pause hang, looking over to his date waiting for him across the floor, then smiled coldly as you looked back at him. “…if it’s projection.”
Alex blinked, not expecting you to be the one to push back.
“After all,” you continued, taking Harry’s champagne flute and sipping casually, “I’m here with Harry. Happily. In love, might I add. But you?” You let your gaze sweep him up and down in open disdain. “You have a different woman on your arm this time. Whereas Harry still has the same on his…” You shrugged, “That doesn’t look like confidence. Looks more like desperation to me...”
His smirk disappeared completely, and he cleared his throat, looking down at his drink almost shamefully.
“Now,” you added lightly, handing the glass back to Harry as if nothing happened, “why don’t you run along before you embarrass yourself further?”
He looked up at you and his jaw tightened.
You gasped dramatically, “Oh, goodness, pardon me. Where is my holiday spirit, Dudsley? We hope you have a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year...” You gave him a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes before reaching behind and taking Harry’s hand to wrap around your waist, reaching up to kiss his cheek, “Right, sweetheart?”
Harry exhaled and gave a tight nod towards him, tightening his hold on you, “Of course, my love.” Then kissed your temple.
For once, Alex didn’t have a comeback. His jaw tightened more, eyes flickering between you and Harry, before he muttered something under his breath and stalked off into the crowd.
Harry’s gaze followed him, fury still simmering, but you turned in his arms and tugged his face back to yours gently.
“Hey,” you murmured. “You okay?”
His jaw worked, but then he kissed your forehead, lingering there. “You shouldn’t have to defend yourself from that filth. I should of—”
“I know,” you cut him off softly, brushing his lapel. “But I don’t mind putting him in his place. Besides—” You glanced at him, lips quirking. “I think I just saved your career. You were about two seconds from making this a Christmas Eve to remember...”
That got the faintest laugh out of him, though his eyes were still dark with anger. He pulled you closer, his hand splayed at your back.
“No one gets to talk about you like that,” he said fiercely, low so only you could hear. “Not in my world. Not anywhere.”
You smiled faintly, resting your head against his chest. “Good thing I don’t need anyone else’s respect here. Just yours.”
Harry exhaled, long and slow, pressing another kiss into your hair as the music swelled again around you.
After a few more greetings for colleagues and friends, Harry was still tense under your touch, his hand splayed protectively across your back like he needed to anchor you there, to remind himself you were safe. His jaw was set, his eyes scanning the crowd as though Alex Dorsey might reappear at any moment to stir the pot again.
You gave him a beat to breathe, then tilted your head up at him. “Baby?” you said softly, tugging at his lapel until his eyes dropped to yours. “Enough glaring for the night. Come dance with me...”
His brows flicked up, caught off guard. Normally, it was him dragging you out onto a floor like this, using charm and persistence to coax you into his rhythm.
But tonight, it was you who reached for his hand first, threading your fingers with his and pulling him toward the glow of the ballroom floor.
“Mi vida,” he murmured, resisting just slightly, that crease still between his brows. “You don’t have to—”
“I want to,” you cut in firmly. “Come on. Before you combust and Peter has to draft a press release about your ‘work party incident’ and you get put on the naughty list…”
That earned you the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth, the first crack in the storm-cloud expression.
You tugged again, more insistent this time, and finally he let out a resigned exhale and let you lead him between the couples swaying to the slow sweep of the band.
You slid closer to him, your arms looped around his neck, and swayed with the music until his eyes finally dropped to yours. “This is better,” you murmured.
His brow furrowed, though softer now. “Better?”
“Mmhm,” you said, brushing your nose lightly against his jaw. “See? This is much nicer than plotting someone’s murder in front of Clarkson.”
That earned a low laugh, reluctant but real, rumbling through his chest. “He deserved it,” Harry muttered, though his hands smoothed over your back now, fingers flexing like he couldn’t quite stop touching you.
“Probably,” you agreed easily, letting your cheek rest against his chest. “But I’d rather you stayed employed. Makes the whole ‘building a life together’ thing a little easier, y’know?”
His breath caught at that—small, but noticeable. You felt his head dip, his lips press into your hair. “You’ve gotten entirely too good at grounding me,” he whispered.
You tipped your head back just enough to meet his eyes, your lips curving. “You make it easy.”
For a few beats, you just swayed together, the music wrapping around you. Then, with a faint grin tugging at your lips, you looked up and leaned in closer. “Crazy, isn’t it?”
Harry’s brow arched. “What is?”
“That we’re back here. On a dance floor.” You pulled back just enough to meet his gaze. “Do you remember the first time? At Ben and Lila’s wedding?”
He chuckled, the sound loosening more of the tightness in his shoulders. “How could I forget? Didn’t you call me a stalker?”
“You assumed I did, remember?” you corrected immediately. “Plus, you technically were. Lookin’ at pictures at me at Lila’s house…” You teased.
He laughed again, softer this time, his forehead brushing yours. “You were hard not to look at. I’ve been captivated by you and your beauty for a while now.”
“Careful now…” You tipped your chin at him, smiling as you leaned up closer to his lips. “Flattery’ll get you a one-way ticket to my heart if you keep talkin’ like that, Castillo.”
That earned you a look—warm, intent, the kind that made your stomach flip. “Good.” His hand slid up your spine, pulling you flush against him. “That’s exactly where I want to be,” he murmured, before kissing you slowly and deliberately, right there in the middle of the floor.
The kiss drew a few glances from nearby couples, but neither of you cared. You melted into it, your hand threading into his hair as the music swelled around you. When he finally pulled back, his lips curved into a grin, “Thank God for Ben finally askin’ Lila to marry him.”
You giggled, combing through his hair, “Thank God for Lila sayin’ yes!”
You both chuckled at that, the laughter softening into something quieter, steadier. As the sound faded, your foreheads pressed together, his breath mingling with yours in the space between. His voice was low, meant only for you. “I don’t know what I would have done if we hadn’t met that night.”
You leaned up and kissed his lips, cupping his cheek as your lips moved against his a few more times before pulling back and whispering, “We would have found each other, trust me.”
The band swelled, a shift in tempo that had couples spinning around you, but the two of you stayed in your own pocket of stillness. His thumb stroked the base of your spine, his eyes locked to yours like the rest of the room had vanished.
Conversation drifted again, lazy and intimate.
“So,” you said, messing with the hairs at the back of his neck, “this is the first year we’re spending Christmas together.”
Harry hummed in agreement, thumb brushing small circles against your waist. “And New Year’s. You realize you’re stuck with me for both.”
“Mm, I think I can manage.” You smiled up at him, playful but soft. “It feels… big. Like a start to something.”
His gaze darkened in that way you’d learned to recognize—not just desire, but something deeper, steadier. He kissed your temple, lingering there as he thought about his plans within the next couple of days, “It is. It makes me excited for what's to come next.”
Your chest tightened at the certainty in his tone, warmth spilling through you as the music carried you both.
A few more songs later, you glanced up at the clock above the band and blinked at the time. “Harry.”
He hummed, distracted with the way his lips skimmed your hairline. “Mm?”
“It’s nearly 11. We should probably think about leaving before Clarkson comes up with some late-night Christmas work assignment for you.” You joked.
His chuckle was low, the vibration rolling through his chest. “Let him. I’m not ready to let you go yet.”
You chuckled, tugging back just enough to look at him. “You are insatiable, you know that?”
“Mhm, an accurate assessment,” he agreed without shame, moving in to kiss you again, slower this time, like he wanted to make the moment last.
When you finally pulled back, still smiling, a thought sparked mischievously across your face.
“So,” you said casually, tilting your head, “what did you get me for Christmas this year?”
Harry froze, then narrowed his eyes playfully. “Ah. There it is.”
“What?” you asked, feigning innocence.
“That look.” His grin spread, knowing and fond. “The one you get when you’ve been snooping around the tree for days, trying to guess what’s inside the boxes.”
Your cheeks warmed, but you tried to hide it with a shrug. “I just like surprises.”
“You’re terrible with surprises,” Harry corrected, laughing outright now. “You’ve been poking at the paper, weighing the boxes like a detective, mi vida. The maid, Yolonda, told me you even tried shaking one.”
You gasped, mock-offended. “She ratted me out?”
“Of course she did!” He bent to kiss your cheek, then your lips. “And no, I’m not telling you. You’ll just have to wait like everyone else ‘til the morning.”
You groaned dramatically, burying your face in his chest. “I hate waiting.”
Harry’s laughter softened into something gentler as he held you tighter, his lips brushing the top of your head. “I know. But some things are worth it.”
Eventually, Harry guided you off the floor, his hand warm and steady at your back as the band struck up another song. The crowd had thickened near the bar and coat check, laughter carrying over the music as people began to drift out in pairs and clusters toward the exit.
Clarkson spotted you both almost immediately, glass in hand, his ever-imposing frame softened by the flush of spiked eggnog and good old holiday cheer. “Ah, Castillo!” he boomed, clapping Harry on the shoulder before turning to you with a warm smile. “And the lovely lady keeping him in line tonight. You two light up a room, you know that?”
Harry smiled politely, his hand giving your waist the gentlest squeeze. “Thank you, sir. It was a wonderful evening. As always.”
“Couldn’t have done it without the right people workin’ for me. You all make these things possible,” Clarkson replied, raising his glass toward you with a wink. “Hope we’ll see more of you at these events.”
You returned the smile. “Thank you for inviting me. Everything was beautiful.”
“Well said,” Harry murmured, pressing a light kiss to your temple, then nodded at Clarkson, “Well, we are off. You have a Merry Christmas, sir.”
Clarkson gently tapped Harry’s arm and nodded at you both, “You get home safe and have a wonderful rest of your week. Merry Christmas.”
Harry smiled and took your hand before steering you toward the coatroom.
Peter was there, already shrugging into his own jacket and winding a scarf around his neck. His grin spread as soon as he spotted the two of you. “Finally calling it a night, eh? I thought you’d try to out-dance the band. Dance ‘til sunrise.”
Harry laughed, grabbing his coat from the rack. “Tempting.”
Peter shot you a mock-conspiratorial look. “You seem to be the only one who can drag him onto a dance floor, that’s for sure.”
You grinned, and Harry rolled his eyes good-naturedly as he held your coat open for you. You slipped your arms through the sleeves and felt him smooth the collar into place, his hands lingering just long enough to warm your shoulders.
Peter buttoned his jacket, still smiling. “Well, I’m heading out too. Merry Christmas, you two.”
“Merry Christmas, Peter,” you said warmly.
Harry clasped Peter’s shoulder before the younger man disappeared into the night. “Enjoy your time off. I don’t want to hear a word about work until next year.”
Peter barked a laugh over his shoulder. “Hey, same goes for you, boss.”
Harry smirked, then tugged on his scarf as he turned back to you. “Ready? Ted has the car ready for us out front…”
You nodded and looped your arm through his, and together, you pushed through the heavy doors and out into the night.
The air was crisp, your breath clouding in white puffs as you stepped onto the sidewalk. The city stretched before you, dressed in its Christmas best—lights strung across lampposts, garlands wound around balconies, shop windows glowing warm with gold and red. And yet, for once, the streets were hushed. Cars sparse. Foot traffic light. The usual chaos of New York slowed to something that almost felt like peace.
You pulled your coat tighter, eyes roaming over the sparkling quiet. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen the city like this,” you whispered. Then you turned toward him, eyes bright despite the cold. “Harry… can we take a walk? Just for a bit?”
His gaze softened instantly, a slow smile tugging at his lips. “For as long as you want, mi amor.”
You nodded and smiled, then looked at Ted, who was still holding the door to the car open, “Could you pick us up in about 30 minutes?”
Ted smiled and closed the door, “Of course, darlin’.” he nodded toward Harry, “Just call me with your location when you’re ready, sir.”
Harry smiled warmly at Ted and nodded before offering his hand for you to take.
You slipped your hand into his, fingers lacing together as the two of you began strolling down the block.
The air was cold enough to steal your breath if you let it—each breath misting white as it rose and dissolved into the quiet night. The streets of New York—usually all horns, footsteps, chatter, and rush—were subdued, softened by the spirit of Christmas Eve.
Lights hung from lampposts, gold and green and red, flickering gently. A shop window across the way glowed with a nativity display. Another boasted mannequins in sequined gowns, silver snowflakes hanging from wires like suspended stars.
Harry glanced sideways at you, his breath fogging in the chill. “So,” he said lightly, “do I get to know what you picked out for everyone? Or is that classified information?”
You grinned, tugging him closer as you slowed in front of a shop window where toy trains circled through a miniature snowy village. “I’ll give you one hint. Savannah’s going to lose her mind when she sees it.”
“Ah, so something pink and sparkly then,” he teased, eyes crinkling at the corners.
“Pink, sparkly, and with glitter that will haunt Simon’s carpet until July,” you said smugly. “It’s basically my gift to Liv, too.”
Harry chuckled, squeezing your hand. “You’re evil. I like it.”
You tilted your head up at him, eyes twinkling. “What about you? You always act like you’re so mysterious, but I know you’ve had your presents sorted for weeks.”
He smirked. “Months, actually.”
You gasped in mock outrage. “You’re one of those people?”
“One of those people,” he confirmed proudly, his hand slipping into his coat pocket. “My mom is going to cry when she sees hers.”
Your expression softened. “Something sentimental?”
“Very,” he said simply, the kind of word that carried weight in his voice, warmth in his eyes.
You let yourself imagine it—his mother unwrapping something thoughtful, tears brimming as she looked at her eldest son. It only deepened that ache in your chest, the one that came from seeing him so thoroughly a part of his family.
As you both continued to walk, you both lingered at another window display—this one filled with a tall snowy Christmas tree, presents and toys littered around it—animatronic children acting out the excitement of Christmas morning. The music from inside the shop spilled faintly onto the sidewalk: a holiday tune in a slow, dreamy tempo.
You leaned into him, chin brushing his shoulder. “You realize your nieces and nephews are going to make us play with every single toy tomorrow, right? We’ll be honorary elves for the day.”
He pressed a kiss to your temple, his hand tightening around yours as you both started walking to the next window display. This one had a train set going around a fully lit Christmas tree. Around it were an assortment of toys, dolls, and presents that were wrapped. “Best job in the world. All the fun, and we get to go home when it gets too rowdy.”
You laughed softly, the sound curling in the quiet street. The stillness around you made it feel as though the entire city had been reserved for the two of you, as though the clamor of New York had stepped aside to give you space—like the city had been hushed just for you.
You both stood and watched the train go around the tree a few times, your reflections mirrored in the window. You smiled as you watched the train come back around the track. Harry watched his whole world light up with Christmas joy as the train blew its horn as it passed by.
And then—as though on cue—the first snowflake drifted down.
It landed against your dark coat sleeve, melting instantly. You blinked, then looked up. More started falling, slow and steady, the kind of snow that didn’t rush—it was the kind that wanted to linger.
Your lips parted in wonder. “Harry, look,” you whispered, almost like a secret. “It’s snowing...”
Harry looked at you for a moment, then tilted his head back and let the snow touch his face, melting cold against his skin.
After a moment, it started falling heavily, soft flakes drifting through the golden haze of the streetlights, settling onto your hair.
You let go of his hand and moved a few paces ahead, too excited to sit still.
“Wait, where are you—” he started, but then stopped.
And there you were.
He watched you drift forward into the empty intersection, the hem of your coat swinging lightly with your steps. The snowfall had picked up more, flakes tumbling down in clusters now, catching in your hair, onto your lashes.
You paused in the middle of the street, checking for cars, looking left and right—as if there were any in this sudden pocket of peace—and then lifted your arms. Slowly, you began to spin, the way a child might when no one was watching. You tipped your head back, mouth open in a soft laugh as the snow landed on your face.
He stood frozen on the sidewalk, watching. Watching and realizing, with a clarity that rooted him to the spot, that nothing in his life had ever been this simple. This right.
His chest ached at the sight. He had never seen anything more beautiful. And not just in the broad strokes—not just your flushed cheeks or your smile that could shame the city lights. It was the little things that undid him.
The way you always laughed with your whole body, not just your lips. The way you never shied away from joy, not when you were with him. The way you found magic in the simplest things—snow, lights, the quiet miracle of a street emptied on Christmas Eve.
And God, the amount of love he has for you.
He loves you—emphatically, wholeheartedly, loudly, and with every molecule of his being, he loves you.
He loved how you saw the world—how you made him see it too. He loved that you could tease him mercilessly one moment and anchor him the next. That you’d taken his walls apart brick by brick without ever trying, simply by showing up as yourself.
He loved that you carried your softness even after life had been so unkind to you for so long. That you trusted him with it. That you allowed him into your darkest corners.
And he loved—selfishly and completely—that you were his.
His hand slipped back into his pocket, fingers brushing along the small velvet box.
He’d carried the ring for days now, eager for what he planned just a few days from now—impatiently waiting for the perfect moment he had set up. He’d imagined a candlelit dinner, champagne and wine, the whole orchestrated scene with the perfect words he’d prepared to say…
But here, right now, with you spinning under a streetlamp as snow crowned your hair—he realized the moment was perfect in a way he could never have planned. All the money in the world couldn’t make it this perfect.
You were laughing—that soft, unguarded giggle that always cracked his heart wide open and filled him with a warmth words could never quite describe.
“Harry!” you called, grinning as you kept your head up toward the sky, “Come here!”
His breath stuttered, and his heart thundered. And before he knew it, he was calling your name from where he stood.
“Y/N…”
You stopped mid-spin, blinking at him, breath visible in the cold.
At first, you thought he was teasing—that smile in his eyes, the way he stood apart from the moment—but then you saw it.
The way he was reaching into his pocket. The way his chest rose and fell too fast. The way the snow was settling onto his dark hair as he slowly stepped forward, once off the curb, then a few more into the street to stand before you, then shakily bent down onto one knee.
Your hands flew to your mouth, and you suddenly lost your voice. “Harry—” You whispered.
The light brown box slipped free of his coat, but his fingers shook so badly he nearly fumbled it. He let out a strangled laugh, nerves and emotion colliding. “I—God, I thought I’d be more composed for this. I had a whole speech—” His voice cracked, breaking into a hoarse laugh. “And now I can’t… Jeez, I can’t even think… I can’t—”
Tears were already welling in his eyes, blurring the sight of you as you stood frozen in the snow.
You didn’t hesitate.
In two strides, you were kneeling in front of him, the cold biting your knees through your tights as you lowered yourself to his level. Your gloved hands found his trembling ones, steadying them—steadying him.
“Hey,” you whispered, eyes glistening but calm. “I’m right here.”
His breath hitched. The sight of you kneeling in front of him—meeting him where he was, grounding him the way only you could—undid him further. You always met him where he was. Always.
He laughed again, broken, emotional, and brushed his thumb over your knuckles. “God, I love you.”
You squeezed his hands and smiled as you let out a small chuckle, letting a couple of tears fall down your cheeks. “I love you...”
He drew a ragged breath, blinking furiously to clear his tears. And somehow, steadied by you, the words began to come.
“I had this whole plan,” he admitted, voice thick. “Something elegant, something that would make sense of—of everything you are to me. But standing there, kneeling here I...”
Snow gathered on his lashes, melted by fresh tears. His voice grew stronger, steadier, though still threaded with tremors. He looked at you, and his composure, the Harry Castillo the world knew—it was gone. What was left was just a man in love, undone by it.
“You’ve changed everything, Y/N. Before you… my life was all order. Structure. I thought I had it figured out—work, family, obligations. But it was all lines on a page. Empty. And then you came, and suddenly there was color. Suddenly, there was warmth. Suddenly, I wasn’t just living… I was alive.”
Your tears spilled over, rolling hot down your cheeks in the cold.
Harry cupped your hand in one of his, clinging it to his chest, his heart pounding so hard you could feel it. “You are my peace, my love. My home. The one person who makes sense of all the noise. You’ve given me laughter I didn’t know I needed, softness I didn’t think I deserved. You’ve made me want more than I ever dared to dream of.”
His voice broke again. He leaned his forehead against yours for a moment, closing his eyes as he tried to calm himself before pulling back and looking at you again, “I love you. I love you more than anything I’ve ever known. And I want to spend every snowfall, every Christmas, every ordinary morning with you by my side. I want forever with you.”
Then the box in his hand creaked as he finally pulled it open, the diamond catching a stray glint of street lamplight above. His gaze lifted, glassy and earnest. “So with that being said… Y/N, will you do me the greatest honor and marry me?”
For a heartbeat, you couldn’t speak. Tears streamed freely now, your smile trembling so wide it hurt. Then you nodded—once, twice, fervently, the warmest, most radiant smile breaking through your tears.
Your gloved hand rose, fingers brushing his cheek tenderly. “Yes,” you whispered, voice catching. Then you let out a laugh that turned into a sob, the happiest kind. “Yes, of course I’ll marry you, Harry.”
Harry’s breath left him in a rush—a laugh, a sob, relief, and joy all tangled. His hands shook as he softly slid your glove off your hand, and then he slid the ring onto your finger, where it fit as if it had always been meant to live there.
And then he was kissing you—desperate, joyous, wet with both of your tears.
You both pulled back laughing and smiling, tears falling, breath mingling in the frigid air. He pulled you against him, wrapping you in his arms, burying his face in your neck for a long moment before pulling back and slowly leaning in to kiss your lips again, murmuring against them: “I love you. Mi todo.” (My everything.)
You laughed against his mouth, hands gripping his coat, kissing him back until—
HONK! HONK!
Both of you startled as a lone taxi crept around the corner, horn continuing to blare at the sight of two figures kneeling in the middle of the intersection.
“Hey! Get out of the street, you idiots! I’m tryna drive here!” the cab driver called in the thickest Staten Island accent.
You burst into laughter, covering your face with one hand as Harry groaned and pulled you to your feet. Together you stumbled to the sidewalk, still laughing, still clinging to each other.
And then, just like that, the world disappeared again as the cab driver faded down the street. Back in your bubble.
Harry framed your face with both hands, pressing his forehead to yours, his smile unstoppable. “You said yes.”
You nodded, laughing through your tears. “I did. And you—” You poked his chest lightly. “That wasn’t the speech you had planned?” You teased.
He groaned, dropping his head onto your shoulder in mock agony. “No, not even close. I wrote it all down. On those little cue cards, too!” He lifted his head, his smile shining, “Been rehearsin’ in the shower, at the office, hell even had me up in the middle of the night a few nights ago... and I—” His gaze softened, “I forgot every word the second you looked at me.”
You laughed softly, stroking his hair back. “Good. Because what you said was perfect.”
He hummed in disagreement, eyes shining as he stroked your cheek with his thumb. “It was a mess.”
“It was you,” you countered, smiling through fresh tears. “And it was perfect.”
Harry couldn’t help the way he was looking at you in that moment, so he leaned in and kissed you again, slower this time, reverent. The kind of kiss that sealed promises, that told you what words never could.
Above you, the snow kept falling. Around you, the city glowed in holiday lights. But for both of you, the world had narrowed to this—hands clasped, lips brushing, hearts thundering with the shared certainty of forever together.
Harry was still grinning like a fool when he finally pulled himself together enough to fumble his phone from his pocket. His thumb slipped against the screen twice before he managed to dial Ted.
“Sir?” Ted’s voice came warm and steady on the other end, as always.
Harry cleared his throat, though his voice was still a little shaky, thick with tears and laughter. “Ted, we’re ready. Just a few blocks east of the plaza. Corner of Fifth and 72nd.”
“On my way,” Ted replied easily. “Give me a few minutes.”
Harry hung up, sliding the phone back into his pocket. But when he turned to you, whatever composure he’d tried to gather dissolved instantly.
You were staring at your hand. At the ring. Snow dusted your lashes, your hair, and you looked up at him with a radiant smile that made his chest squeeze so tight it almost hurt.
“Harry…” Your voice was hushed, reverent. You held up your hand as though to prove it wasn’t a dream. “This is real, right? I’m not going to wake up?”
He let out a shaky laugh, cupping your face in both hands before kissing you once, slow and sure. “It’s real,” he murmured against your lips. “You’re mine and I’m yours. For always now.”
You laughed as happy tears fell again, gripping his coat lapels to keep him close. “God, I love you.”
“I love you,” he echoed, kissing you again, harder this time, so lost in the taste of you that he barely noticed the headlights sweeping across the street.
“Sir?” Ted’s voice called gently from the curb, breaking the bubble.
You pulled back with a soft gasp, cheeks flushed, lips pink, both of you laughing as though you’d been caught sneaking kisses behind the bleachers. Harry took your hand, lacing your fingers tightly, and guided you toward the car carefully as the snow was starting to make things slick.
Ted had already stepped out to open the back door. His kind eyes crinkled knowingly as he glanced between you both. “Everythin’ all right, sir? Miss?”
Harry couldn’t help himself—his grin stretched impossibly wider. “Better than all right, Ted.” He squeezed your hand, lifted it, and showed Ted the sparkling ring now gracing your finger.
Ted’s brows lifted, and his smile turned soft, genuine. “Well, congratulations, you two. I’m so happy for you both!” He dipped his head respectfully before ushering you inside.
The second the door shut and the city’s quiet wrapped around you again, Harry leaned across the seat and kissed you like he couldn’t help himself. His hand slid to your cheek, thumb stroking tenderly before tilting your chin up for another.
You laughed breathlessly against his mouth. “Wait—what about Ted?”
“Door’s shut, dividers up,” he murmured, lips brushing yours again. “Besides, I can’t… I can’t stop.”
It was true. The adrenaline of the proposal still thrummed between you both, sparking in every brush of skin. Your hands tangled in his hair, tugging lightly as you kissed him again and again, both of you giggling and sighing into the closeness like teenagers who’d just gotten away with something daring.
The city blurred by outside the tinted windows—twinkling lights, snow-dusted rooftops, the occasional wreath hanging from a streetlamp. But neither of you watched. Neither of you could tear your eyes or your hands away from each other. Your hands were in his hair, tugging at his lapels or waist—his were either on your cheeks, slowly teasing down your body, gripping your bare thigh or hip to tug you closer.
Every few seconds, you’d break apart just long enough to whisper something—“I can’t believe this,” or “You’re really mine,” or “My fiancé”—and every time that word left your lips, Harry groaned softly, kissing you harder, as if the sound of it undid him completely.
By the time Ted slowed in front of Harry’s building, your cheeks were flushed, your lips kiss-swollen, your hearts pounding in tandem.
Harry rested his forehead against yours, chest heaving with quiet laughter. “We should… probably go inside before we...” He looked down at your lips hungrily.
You smirked, eyes glinting as you bit your bottom lip, looking at his. “Yeah, probably.”
And yet neither of you moved right away, clinging to the last few seconds of the drive, to the bubble of warmth before stepping back into the world.
Finally, Harry groaned and straightened, knocking lightly on the glass to let Ted know they were ready. Ted opened the door, discreet as always, though the small curve at his lips suggested he knew exactly what kind of mood filled the car.
“Thank you, Ted,” Harry said as he stepped out, then immediately turned to offer you his hand, steadying you onto the snowy sidewalk.
Ted tipped his hat lightly. “Congratulations again. And Merry Christmas, both of you.”
“Merry Christmas,” you said warmly, still clutching Harry’s hand but leaning up to kiss his cheek gently.
Ted smiled and had a small blush to his cheeks before he slipped back into the car, pulling smoothly away. And then it was just the two of you again, snow swirling under the glow of the building’s entry lights.
Harry looked down at you, breath misting in the cold, and for a long moment he simply… stared. Like he was memorizing every detail—your flushed cheeks, your sparkling eyes, the way your ring caught the light every time you moved your hand.
“Home?” he murmured, voice rough.
You nodded, lips curving softly. “Home.”
He kissed you once more before guiding you inside—to warmth, to privacy, to the kind of night neither of you would ever forget.
The apartment was quiet as you both stepped inside, the hush of falling snow just outside the windows made it seem almost magical.
You kicked off your heels, the muffled thud against the rug oddly grounding after the glittering chaos of the party. The faint scent of pine from the Christmas tree filled the warm air, lights twinkling softly from the corner of the living room, and the soft light from the rest of the warm decor lit your home.
You turned, laughing under your breath as you tugged at your scarf. “I don’t know about you, but my ears are still frozen,” you murmured, unwrapping it slowly from your neck.
Harry didn’t answer. He stood a few steps behind, watching you with that look you’d started to recognize—the one that made your breath stutter and your pulse leap. Like he’d already memorized every line of you, yet couldn’t stop tracing them all over again.
His coat was still on, scarf loosened but not removed, his hair dusted faintly from the snow that hadn’t melted yet.
And his eyes—God, those beautiful, soft, warm, brown eyes. They weren’t full of the storm of earlier tonight. No anger. No tension. Just something so deep and warm it felt like sinking into soft velvet.
Your glove was halfway off when his voice came low and quiet, “Give me your hand, mi amor.”
You blinked, pulse tripping at the edge in his tone. Not demanding—but heavy with intent. You stepped closer, offering your left hand, and his fingers closed over it, tugging the glove free in one smooth pull. He didn’t let go.
The engagement ring glinted under the soft golden lights as he turned your hand over, his thumb brushing the diamond like he couldn’t believe it was real. Like he needed to feel it under his skin to make sure it wasn’t something the snow or the champagne had conjured up in his head.
“Harry…” you whispered, the word barely forming before his lips touched your knuckles. A worshipful kiss. Then another. Then one over the ring itself, slow and deliberate, his breath ghosting warm against your chilled skin.
You didn’t realize you were trembling until he looked up, still holding your hand against his mouth. His eyes were wet at the corners—maybe from the cold, maybe from everything you’d both just promised.
“Say it again,” he rasped.
You tilted your head, smiling softly. “Say what?”
The corner of his mouth lifted, but his voice stayed husky, frayed. “What you called me earlier.”
You thought for a moment, then the word slid out like silk: “Fiancé.”
A sharp breath broke from him, something like a laugh, but his chest shuddered with it. “Again.”
You smiled wider, teasing now, because you couldn’t help it. “Fiancé.” You said it slower this time, savoring it like something decadent on your tongue.
Harry groaned—actually groaned —and pulled you closer by the waist so fast you stumbled into his chest. His arms banded around you, heat seeping through the wool of his coat as his lips found the curve of your jaw, then the hollow below your ear.
“I’ll never get tired of hearing that,” he murmured against your skin, voice molten, vibrating straight through you.
“Mmm, just wait until I call you my husband,” you teased, voice coming out sinfully.
He tightened his grip on your hips and groaned again, starting to lightly suck on your pulse point, “Mi amor, don’t get me started on how that title makes me feel…”
Your laugh was breathless, tilting your head to let him taste more of you. “You’re going to drive me crazy if you keep doing that.”
“That’s the plan,” he said, pulling back just enough to find your mouth. The kiss was soft at first— a whisper of lips—but then his hands slid from your hips up your spine, and the softness unraveled into something hungrier, deeper.
You curled your fingers into his hair, pulling him closer, and the muffled sound he made against your mouth lit you up from the inside. This wasn’t rushed, wasn’t frantic—but it was charged. Like every second since he’d knelt in the snow had been leading here, to this exact moment, where forever didn’t feel abstract. It felt like heat and breath and skin.
When his tongue teased along yours, you melted completely, sighing into him as he walked you backward until your shoulders brushed the wall. One of his hands pressed there beside your head, the other gripping your hip, and the controlled strength of him had your knees threatening to give out.
You barely broke the kiss to whisper, voice shaky but teasing, “Shit, Harry—what happened to champagne in the car?”
His lips ghosted over your jaw, down your throat, setting fire to every nerve ending he touched. “Forgot about the champagne,” he murmured, mouth grazing your collarbone now. “The only thing I want to taste tonight is you.”
Your head dropped back with a soft laugh that turned into a quiet gasp when he bit gently at the base of your neck, soothing it instantly with his tongue.
The scarf slid from your shoulders, pooling at your feet, and then his fingers were at your coat buttons, slow and careful even as his breath turned rough against your skin. Every movement deliberate, like he wanted to savor the ritual of unwrapping you.
When the last button came free, he eased the coat down your arms, kissing every inch of bare skin he revealed until it joined the scarf on the floor.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he murmured, and this time there was no tease, no smirk—just raw, aching truth in the way his voice cracked over it. He touched his forehead to yours, his hand cradling your cheek like you were something fragile. “My beautiful fiancé.” The way he said it sounded like a prayer.
Your lips curved as you whispered back, breath trembling, “Say it again.”
He smiled—the soft, boyish one he saved just for you—and kissed you slow enough to steal every ounce of air from your lungs before whispering against your lips, “My fiancé.”
Then went back in for your lips, and his hands roamed your body, unhurried, as though time itself had slowed down just for him to explore every inch of you. One slipped beneath the hem of your dress, fingertips skating along your thigh, the other moving up to cup your jaw again as his lips kissed yours with a tenderness that made you melt.
There was no urgency, no rush, just him sinking deeper into you, tasting, savoring, as if he could hold onto forever with the press of your lips to his.
Your hand moved down to his belt, tugging it out of the loop, hungry for him.
His thumb brushed your cheekbone as he kissed you once more, and then again, breaking only long enough to murmur against your mouth, low and hoarse, “Not here… mi vida. I need you in our bed.”
The words sent a shiver straight through you, and you nodded. Then, with deliberate care, he bent and scooped you up. Your arms flew around his neck, legs around his waist instinctively, a small laugh escaping you as he lifted you effortlessly.
“Harry—”
“Shh,” he murmured, his lips brushing your jawline as he carried you down the hall. “I got you.”
The hallway blurred around you in the soft glow of the twinkling lights of the living room and shadows, your laughter breaking between kisses he dropped on your jaw, your cheek, your nose. He bumped into the wall once, and you both dissolved into giggles, only for him to hush you with another kiss, more insistent this time, like he couldn’t quite decide whether he wanted to laugh or kiss you.
When he reached the bedroom, he nudged the door open with his foot and set you gently on the mattress. For a moment, he just stood there at the edge of the bed, drinking you in. His scarf was still looped around his neck, his coat half-open, his chest rising and falling with more than just breath. His eyes traced the shape of you, stretched out across the sheets, his fiancée, his forever.
Inside, Harry’s chest was tight as he couldn’t stop thinking, ‘How the hell do I deserve this?’
You, on his bed, ring glinting faintly in the spill of golden light from the tree down the hall.
“God, you’re captivating with that ring on your finger,” he whispered again, almost to himself.
Your chest tightened, warmth swelling so fiercely behind your ribs you thought it might burst. “Then come here,” you whispered back, reaching out a hand to take his and pull him toward you.
He stripped off his coat and suit jacket in one fluid motion, letting them fall to the floor, then crawled onto the bed after you, caging you in with his arms on either side. His lips brushed yours, soft and warm, before trailing along your jaw and down the column of your throat. With every kiss he laid, his fingers moved with equal devotion—unzipping your dress slowly, reverently, kissing each inch of skin as he revealed it.
By the time the fabric slipped off your shoulders, you were trembling, both from the chill of the air and from the heat of his mouth as he kissed across your collarbone, then down lower, worshipping every single inch.
“Harry…” you whispered, threading your fingers into his hair, tugging lightly to pull him back up to you. His mouth found yours again, deeper this time, until you felt dizzy from the taste of him.
When your hands moved to undo his bowtie, then the buttons of his shirt, and then to push his shirt off his shoulders, he let out a sharp groan, breaking the kiss long enough to yank it off and toss it aside. Your fingers splayed over his bare chest, the muscles shifting beneath your touch, and you could feel his heart pounding just as wildly as yours.
You traced down slowly, your ring catching against his skin, and the way he sucked in a breath at the feel of it nearly undid you both. His eyes darted down to where the diamond grazed over his chest, and his entire body seemed to shudder with the reminder of what it meant.
“That,” he rasped, his hand covering yours, pressing it firmer against him, “drives me insane. My ring. On you. Against me.”
You smiled breathlessly, leaning up to kiss him. “Get used to it, fiancé.”
He groaned again, half laughter, half wrecked sound, and kissed you harder, rolling you gently beneath him as his hands mapped your body. His hips pressed against yours, a slow grind that made your breath hitch. Even with layers still between you, the heat was scorching, the friction nearly undoing you both.
“Harry,” you gasped against his lips, fingers digging into his shoulders.
He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes. His own were dark, pupils blown wide, but behind the hunger was something deeper—love so raw it almost hurt. “I want to go slow,” he whispered, gently pinching your chin to keep your gaze. “I want to feel everything. Every second. Every breath.”
Your throat tightened, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “Then take me slow,” you whispered back.
And he did.
Piece by piece, he unwrapped you from your lingerie, every clasp and strap undone with care, each new reveal followed by his lips claiming that part of you.
You helped each other with the rest, your hand reaching for his belt, clumsy laughter between kisses as clothes tumbled away until there was nothing left but skin and heat and the faint glow of the lights of the city from the window.
The first slide of his hips against yours, skin to skin, was enough to make you both gasp, his cock sliding through your folds, almost teasing you both into insanity. Harry buried his face in your neck, groaning like he’d been starving and finally tasted salvation.
“God, you feel like heaven,” he whispered raggedly. “Mi amor… I swear I’ll never stop loving you.”
You arched beneath him, goosebumps scattering across your skin, your back bowing with the intensity of him. And still, you pulled him closer, nails digging into his back, whispering against his lips, “Closer. I need you closer… I need you.”
Neither of you could seem to get close enough. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you flush against him, and you wrapped your legs tighter around his waist, grinding together in a slow, desperate rhythm that made you both shudder.
When he finally slid inside you, it was almost too much. You gasped, nails biting into his shoulders, and Harry froze, groaning low, burying his face in your neck again.
“Fuck—” he whispered harshly, trembling with restraint. “You undo me. Every time. Every time, baby.”
Inside, Harry’s mind was chaos, ‘Don’t rush. Don’t lose it. God, she feels so perfect. God, she’s going to be my wife.’
He moved slowly, each thrust deep and deliberate, his lips brushing yours, your jaw, your throat, never straying far from your skin. And with every movement, you whispered love back into him—his name, soft I love yous, breathless confessions that left him shaking and almost losing all restraint he was trying to keep locked up to make this last.
But even that closeness wasn’t enough—halfway through, you pushed gently at his chest, and his eyes widened slightly with confusion until you guided him onto his back. “Let me,” you whispered, your voice trembling but sure. “I want to take care of you.”
Harry’s chest rose and fell sharply, his hands gripping your hips as you straddled him, the ring glinting faintly in the light. His lips parted as though he couldn’t quite believe it was real, now convinced he was dreaming.
When you sank down onto him again, his head fell back with a strangled moan, his hands clutching your thighs like anchors. “Christ,” he gasped. “La voy a perder, mi amor.” (I’m going to lose it, my love)
You rolled your hips slowly, deliberately, taking him—all of him. Your hand landed on his chest to steady yourself as you climbed toward your peak—his heart thudding against your palm.
He grunted, and his eyes rolled back as you rolled your hips a little slower, almost like you were teasing him. “Fuck baby, like that. Just like that.”
You kept that slow roll, biting your lip at the way his cock twitched inside you, moaning when it’d hit that certain soft spongy spot.
He could feel you start to clench around him when he’d hit that spot deep inside. He looked up at you, your head thrown back in pure ecstasy, chest heaving, soft moans leaving your lips, and sat up, unable to stop himself from kissing you—your mouth, your throat, your collarbone, your breasts. His lips traced your ribs, your stomach, frantic and laced with devotion all at once. He couldn’t stop mapping your body with his mouth, murmuring broken words against your skin: “Mine. Always. Forever.”
The rhythm built between you, slow but consuming, until the pressure coiled tight and unbearable. You clung to him, nails digging into his shoulders, and his hands slid up your back, holding you as though he could keep you tethered even as you both unraveled.
“Don’t stop,” you begged, breath shaky as you looked down at him, your eyebrows furrowed in pure pleasure, “Harry, please don’t stop.” you mewled louder, gasping as you felt yourself climb faster.
“I’m right here, baby.” He whispered, grunting as he held onto your hips, moving your hips with his, groaning and moaning as he felt himself nearing his own peak faster than he anticipated. “Fuck—oh god—” He looked up at you, keeping your gaze, “I’m right here.”
The climax hit like a wave crashing over both of you—earth-shattering, breath-stealing, so intense it left you gasping into each other’s mouths. Harry groaned your name, his forehead pressed to your chest, his whole body shuddering as he fell apart with you.
For a moment, neither of you could breathe. Just gasps, moans, tremors as you clung together, riding the aftershocks, trembling in each other’s arms.
When the world finally steadied again, you collapsed against him, your body boneless, your cheek pressed to his shoulder. Harry’s arms wrapped tight around you, his lips pressing over and over into your hair, your temple, your cheek.
Soft laughter bubbled up between your heavy breaths, a giddy sound that made his chest shake with quiet joy.
“I love you,” you whispered, kissing the damp skin of his throat.
Harry tilted your chin up with his thumb and forefinger, kissing your lips tenderly. “Cada día te quiero más.”
You echoed the phrase back to him in a whisper and then shifted slightly in his lap, boneless now. Harry leaned back with you until the pillows cradled you both. Your chest rose and fell against his, your cheek warm against his skin. He traced a lazy path down your spine, content just to feel you there.
“What do you think?” he murmured into your hair. “Big or small wedding?”
Your lips curved against his chest as a soft, sleepy giggle escaped you. “Big,” you mumbled. “Gotta outshine Lila.”
Harry chuckled, his chest rumbling beneath you.
“If you want big, I’ll give you big. Trumpets, fireworks, hell—I’ll rent the moon if I have to.”
You chuckled sleepily, nuzzling into him.
His fingers drew idle shapes over your bare back, but his mind had already run ahead—to you walking toward him in white, to the catch of your smile, to the vows that would break and bind him all at once. He let himself linger there, in that future—in that dream now real enough to reach for.
“If love could be measured in size, querida, I’d build a wedding so big the stars themselves would lean down to watch,” he whispered, his lips brushing your hairline.
He waited for your reply, but when he tilted his head to look, you were already asleep, your face soft, your breath warm against his chest. His smile curved tender and unguarded. He kissed your hair once, then let his eyes fall closed, sleep claiming him with you still in his arms.
The first thing Harry noticed when he woke was the weight of your hand over his chest, your ring catching the soft gold light spilling through the curtains. For a long while, he didn’t move. He just lay there, staring at the diamond, at your fingers curled so trustingly against him, at the way the sun seemed to find you like it couldn’t help itself.
A smile curved across his lips before he even realized it, warm and soft, the kind that had been finding him more and more often since last night. His fiancée.
The word still knocked the breath out of him.
He shifted carefully, pressing a kiss to your fingers, then your wrist, then your bare shoulder, the trail of kisses coaxing you slowly from sleep.
You made a small, sleepy sound, your lashes fluttering open. “Mm…”
“Good morning, mi amor,” Harry murmured, voice thick and gravelly with sleep. He slid an arm around you, tugging you closer until your body curved against his.
You blinked blearily at him, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “Good morning.”
The kiss you gave him was slow, lazy, like honey dripping from the comb. You hummed into it, eyes still half-shut, and Harry chuckled quietly before stealing another, then another, until the line between dream and morning blurred.
“Merry Christmas,” you whispered against his mouth.
He pressed his forehead to yours. “Merry Christmas, fiancé.”
You hummed and shyly buried your face in the pillow next to you. “Mmm, still not over how good that sounds.”
He chuckled, brushing hair gently from your face, leaning in to kiss your shoulder. “Good. Because I plan to remind you every day until we make it husband.”
That earned him a sleepy laugh, and you turned your head to reach back for his lips. He kissed you softly, sweetly, lingering there like he had all the time in the world.
He pulled back slowly and propped himself on one elbow, mischief sparking in his eyes now. “Come on,” he coaxed, tapping your hip. “Up. Presents are waiting.”
You squinted at him like he’d just asked you to run laps in the snow. “Harry, it’s barely morning.”
“Exactly.” He grinned, boyish and almost pleading. “Please? Come out with me.”
Your laugh was warm, indulgent. “You’re worse than a kid, baby.”
But you slid from bed anyway, tugging on the soft pajamas he had draped over the chair for you every morning. He did the same, both of you padding out of the bedroom into the hushed glow of the living room. The tree still twinkled faintly in the corner, stockings sagged with weight, and outside the window, snow drifted lazily down.
“Sit,” Harry urged, guiding you to the couch.
You arched a brow but settled into the cushions as he disappeared into the kitchen. A moment later, the oven beeped to life, and you watched as he opened the fridge, pulling out a tray.
When you realized what it was, your breath caught.
Cinnamon rolls.
You sat up straighter, stunned. “You… remembered?”
Harry glanced over, sheepish but proud. “Of course I remembered. You told my family last week. Cinnamon rolls on Christmas morning. Now it’s our tradition.”
Your throat tightened, warmth rising so quickly you didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He slid the tray into the oven and crossed back to you, settling beside you on the couch with a soft and warm smile.
You wasted no time climbing into his lap, straddling him and brushing his hair back with your fingers. “What other endearing, tearful surprises do you have up your sleeves today, Castillo?”
He smirked, tilting his head toward yours until his lips brushed yours. “Just the presents under the tree.”
You kissed him, soft and slow a few times, then pulled back just enough to whisper, “I can’t believe you remembered.”
“How could I forget?” His thumb stroked your cheek. “Traditions make families. And now… this one is part of ours.”
The words hit so deeply that you had to press another kiss to his lips before the emotion spilled over.
Then, with a spark in your eye, you slipped off his lap and padded to the tree. “Speaking of tradition…” You reached under the branches and pulled out a small, neatly wrapped box. You pressed it into his hands as you settled beside him again.
Harry tore into the paper, brows lifting when he found a tin inside. He opened it, and his breath caught.
Polvorones.
You smiled, watching his reaction. “I asked your mom to show me the recipe. We made them together a few days ago while you and Simon were out doing Christmas shopping with the kids. I thought you might want a piece of your childhood this morning.” You hesitated, suddenly shy. “I know your family tradition is to make them on Christmas and I was thinking maybe next year… we can make them together? With the cinnamon rolls.”
For once, Harry was speechless on Christmas morning. His throat worked as his chest tightened with something almost overwhelming. He set the tin gently on the coffee table before pulling you into his lap again, kissing you with a fervor that spoke louder than words ever could.
When he pulled back, his voice was low, reverent. “Thank you, mi vida. Just—thank you.”
Tears pricked your eyes at his sincere reaction, but before they could fall, he pressed his forehead to yours, chuckling softly. “Any other tearful surprises I should brace myself for?”
You shrugged, smirking. “Some of the gifts under the tree… I can’t guarantee they won’t bring an emotional reaction.”
His laugh was warm, deep, the sound vibrating through you as he kissed your lips once more, “Shall we get started then?”
You nodded and smiled, then the oven dinged, and soon the apartment filled with the sweet, buttery scent of cinnamon rolls, mingling with the pine from the tree. You brewed coffee while Harry plated everything, and the two of you curled on the couch again—mugs warming your hands, the tree glittering, snow continuing to fall outside.
Unwrapping gifts turned into its own rhythm: tearing paper, laughing, leaning into each other with every surprise.
A new scarf from you, which he immediately wrapped around both your necks with a grin to pull you into another fit of kisses. A delicate bracelet from him to pair with the one you already wore, which he fastened around your wrist, kissing the inside of it before pulling you into his side.
Between gifts, you both nibbled on cinnamon rolls and Polvorones, powdered sugar dusting your lips until Harry leaned in and kissed it away, murmuring against your mouth, “Mmm you taste sweet.”
You giggled into the kiss, brushing sugar from his jaw. “We’re making this every year.”
“Every year,” he promised, his eyes warm and unshakable.
By the time the last box was unwrapped, you were surrounded by a nest of crumpled wrapping paper and ribbons, both of you still tucked together on the couch. Harry pulled you against his chest, your head under his chin, his hand absently tracing shapes along your back.
“How does a spring wedding sound?” You asked, kissing his jaw.
Harry smiled and let out a small chuckle, “As in this spring?”
You leaned up and tilted your head, giggling at his reaction, “What? Is that too soon for you?”
Harry tipped his head, amusement softening into something deeper. “Too soon? Never. I’d marry you tomorrow if you’d let me.”
Your laugh caught in your throat, the sincerity in his voice warming you more than the blanket you shared. You kissed him once, slow and lingering, before tucking yourself back against his chest.
“Then spring it is,” you whispered, and he smiled into your hair, already imagining the moment he’d finally get to call you his wife.
the end.
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poppyjack16 on Chapter 9 Sun 20 Jul 2025 08:29PM UTC
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lonely_ey3s on Chapter 9 Sun 20 Jul 2025 10:29PM UTC
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